


La Petite Mort

by sinecure



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Angst and Humor, F/M, Masturbation, Multi-Era, Romance, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-24
Updated: 2010-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-11 05:53:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinecure/pseuds/sinecure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor never saw fit to warn Rose about things that could happen. And then they happened. (All chapter up and fixed now)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nine Lives

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** La Petite Mort  
> **Character/Pairing in this chapter:** Nine/Rose  
> **Rating:** Adult, humor/angst/romance... did I mention the humor?  
> **Summary:** The Doctor never saw fit to warn Rose about things that could happen. And then they happened.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who... duh.  
> **Thanks:** to momdaegmorgan for the beta. Take a grain of salt and then read this story.

**(Ninth Doctor)**

The Doctor stormed into the TARDIS, stalking up the ramp to the console as Rose trailed a little more slowly behind him. His fingers moved quickly over the console, sending them off into the vortex. As soon as they were on their way, he turned to Rose and crossed his arms over his chest, the sound of his leather jacket creaking the only noise he made. His eyes followed her as she joined him at the console.

She frowned at him, knowing he was going to yell. And for something that hadn't been her fault! How was she to know--

"You could've died." His voice boomed across the room, the power of it battering her already raw nerves. "You could've died and-- didn't I tell you not to touch the flowers?"

She drew her shoulders back, straightening up to look him in the eye. "Yeah, but I didn't know they were poisonous. You never said." Crossing her own arms over her chest, she returned his anger. "And I didn't die!"

"Does it matter that I didn't say why?" he asked in disbelief. He strode closer, staring down at her like he would a naughty child. "When I say not to do something, you don't do it. Doesn't matter why. You just don't do it."

She glared at him, dropping her arms and poking him in the chest. "Yes, it matters! Poisonous flowers I won't touch. Flowers that have healing powers--so say the locals--I will touch if they'd save you, you stupid..." she cast about for a fitting insult, but only finished with, "git!"

"Oh, a stupid git am I?" He shoved her finger from him with a swat of his hand. "Stupid ape."

She wanted to hit him. To make him feel the same panic she had when she saw him lying on the ground dying from a poison she'd never heard of. Wanted him to know that fear, that feeling of doing anything to save someone she lo--cared about.

But there was nothing she could do. He just wouldn't understand.

His eyes narrowed, waiting. For an apology? she thought, snorting mentally. It'd be a long wait.

"Arrogant Time Lord," she snarled, putting all of her anger, fear and fury into those three words.

His arms shot out, dragging her closer, so that their faces were centimeters apart. "Obtuse human."

Rage shot through her at the insult. She raised an eyebrow at him, making sure he knew that she wasn't impressed with what she saw.

His eyes raked over her, obviously finding her wanting as well.

She grabbed for him at the same time as his fingers tightened on her, drawing her in for a furious kiss. Hands touched, fingers splayed, teeth nipped, lips trailed paths across skin. Sweat-slicked, panting and breathless, they tore at clothes, nothing careful or tender in their eagerness to touch, taste and feel.

He lifted her to the console, placing himself between her spread legs, kissing and pressing against her. She grunted at the knobs and dials digging into her back and shoved him from her, leaving him following her with his mouth, the only thing left touching her.

"'S uncomfortable," she gasped.

She wrapped her legs around him and clawed at his neck, drawing him back down. He lifted her from the console and headed toward the interior of the ship. They made it to her room, barely. All clothing was thrown off, in some cases torn.

When he finally slid into her, she was near the edge already. He thrust into her, hard and fast, no waiting, no tenderness, no softness. They were wild and hot and tearing at one another.

Grunts filled the silence, followed by moans. Sounds Rose couldn't identify slipped from her lips. Nameless, wordless sounds that were just noises. Desperate, needy noises, striving to be set free, begging for the Doctor to complete the release she needed, to make it happen, now, now, now!

Finally, she arched her body into his, feeling it coiling tighter and tighter as he continued to thrust into her, hard, hard, so bloody hard she thought she'd be bruised by morning. But she didn't care. She needed him with an intensity that she'd never felt before. It'd been so long, months of foreplay had driven her near mental.

He slid his hands under her back and somehow sat back on his knees, drawing her with him in one smooth movement, angling deeper into her. Chest to chest.

And then finally she was coming. Hard. Shuddering against him as she continued to move on him. She came, then came down hard, breath panting, fingernails clawing, teeth sinking into his shoulder.

He was as out of control as she was, biting her here and there, tasting her skin, licking a path along her neck and jaw. Tongues dueled, played, fought for dominance, throwing off the pace and ruining his body's flow of thrust and retreat. She bit his lip then released it with a gasp as he plunged into her once more, then again, and a third time.

Grunting, grinding against her, jerking his hips, he came, her name on his lips.

Rose felt him go boneless, then stiffen. Frowning, she lazily opened her eyes and watched as a myriad of emotions played across his face. The most prominent one being chagrin.

"Oh, no." His whole body stiffened as he looked down at her. Sadness was winning out now, as he raised a hand to her face. She could see a slight glow emanating from him. Naked chest, sweat-slicked and glowing-- was this a Time Lord thing, glowing after sex? If so, why did he seem upset?

His hand rested along her cheek. "I was afraid this might happen. Been a while after all."

She drew back enough to search his face for an answer, but there was only regret now. "What's wrong? What is it? Did we..." she swallowed thickly, licking her dry lips, "did we do it wrong?"

He laughed at that, actually laughed deep and throaty and in a way that just sent shivers of pleasure through Rose's body. His grin remained after the laughter faded. The glowing grew more intense. "No, Rose. We didn't do it wrong. We did it right, in fact very right. But it means I'm gonna change."

She frowned at that, clamping down on the panic she could feel growing in her. "What do you mean, you're gonna change?"

The smile slipped away as gold light shimmered beneath his skin. "Every cell in my body's dying. This," he told her, eyeing her and running a hand down her side, sliding his fingers under her breast lightly, smiling at the shudder that went through her even now at his touch. "We shouldn't have done this."

She shifted on him and reached out to touch his face. "No."

"It's all right," he assured her. "Time Lords have this little trick, it's... sort of a way of cheating death. Except... like I said, it means I'm gonna change. And I'm not gonna see you again. Not like this, not with this daft old face."

He laughed a little and Rose wanted to smack him. "Make sense!"

He grabbed his stomach in pain, swallowing hard before returning his eyes to her face. "Remember, Rose..."

She stared at him fearfully, wanting to do something, but knowing from the expression on his face that there was nothing she could do. He knew his species better than she did. She leaned forward, hugging him tightly, kissing his neck. "What?"

He pulled away and stared down at her solemnly. "When I say don't touch something, don't touch it!"

Rose smacked him in the chest, caught between a laugh and a sob. "Shut up."

Suddenly, his body jerked and glowing orange light flew out from him, in every direction, nearly blinding her. She covered her eyes with one arm. He was burning up, his skin searing hers. His hair lengthened, his beautiful face changing to that of another man, someone she didn't recognize. And then the energy faded away.

A skinny brown-haired man with freckles was sitting beneath her, as naked as she was, still inside her.

Rose gasped at the different feel of his arms on her back, the shorter, thicker flesh inside her. A different mouth forming words centimeters from her own.

He grinned at her, and it was almost familiar. "Hello! Okay-- ooo." He gulped a little and Rose stared at him in bemusement as he ran his tongue over his teeth. "New teeth. That's weird." His body shifted a hair's breadth to the left, then the right, a look of pleasure lighting up his eyes. "New dangly bits too! Oh, that's... that's just brilliant."

Rose agreed, though she was shocked that her body was starting to respond to this stranger. A complete stranger. In her. Under her. Oh, god.

He looked down at her from the same height as the Doctor... the other Doctor, and his grin returned. "Is this awkward?" he asked, gesturing between them. Seeing her shocked stare, he continued, pulling his earlobe with one hand. "Yeah, this is awkward. Definitely awkward."

Rose stared at him, unmoving. Her arm rose to cover her chest as her eyes fixed on his freckled face, her body responding to the part of him that was still inside her.

After a few seconds, she shoved at him and scrambled off the bed, yanking off a blanket to wrap around herself as she went. "What? Ya think?" she snapped.

He was running his hands through his hair, not bothering to cover his nakedness at all. "I have hair! Oh, is it ginger? I've always wanted to be ginger." His big brown eyes fell on her, waiting excitedly.

She stared at him, at a loss. Was now really the time? She held one hand over her own head, motioning. "You're just, sort of... brown."

"Ohhhh!" he groaned in disappointment. "I've never been ginger."

Rose waited another few seconds for something... an explanation, anything from this man. The man who'd stolen the Doctor from her. When nothing was forthcoming, she grabbed a heavy brass-like vase she'd bought for her mum weeks before but had yet to give to her. Brandishing it, she tucked the edge of the blanket under her other arm and stepped closer. "Who the hell are you, and where's the Doctor?"

He looked up at her in surprise. "I'm right here, Rose." His hand raised in a brief wave, his smile slipping at her reticence. "It's me. Remember, don't touch the flowers? Stupid ape?"

She swallowed and blinked back the tears threatening to flow. "You're not him. He was... different. He had blue eyes. And a Northern accent."

He stood up, and she backed away. A flash of disappointment crossed his face. "Do you remember the first thing I said to you? I said, 'run'. And we did, Rose. Oh, we haven't stopped running yet."

She sniffed and stayed where she was when he stepped closer again. His hand reached out for her free one, clasping their palms together in a new, but familiar grip. The brass vase clunked to the floor. "Doctor?"

He grinned at her, tightening his grip on her hand. "That's me."

"But, what happened? You exploded," she accused, smacking him in the chest. Still naked. She averted her eyes, keeping them nice and angry on his face.

"Ow," he moaned, shrinking away from her. His eyes caught sight of her mirror and he hurried to it, bending over to peer through the many photos she'd stuck around the edges of it. "I'm a bit pretty," he complained, poking and prodding his cheeks while running a hand down his jaw.

"Can you change back?" she asked softly, wanting him to. Desperately wanting him to be her Doctor again. Blue eyes, short hair, big ears, big nose, achingly beautiful smile.

He turned round slowly, his eyes solemn as he regarded her. "Do you want me to?"

She nodded without hesitation. This man before her was not the Doctor. He was pretty, just like he'd said. And a bit scatterbrained. Though, he had just died and been reborn, so maybe she could cut him a little slack for that.

Sadness etched itself onto his face at her response. "No, I'm sorry. I can't."

She nodded in disappointment. "Oh."

He nodded as well, as if he understood something she hadn't said. And then he seemed to notice his lack of clothing for the first time. "Need some new clothes," he said listlessly. He pulled a sheet from the bed and began wrapping it around his waist.

"Doctor?" She didn't like that look on his face. Even if he wasn't her Doctor, he was still the Doctor.

Wasn't he? Yes, she thought so.

She'd have to work out the semantics of that later, but she recognized the loneliness in his eyes. The guarded way he was looking at her. She didn't like it one bit. "Why'd you change? What happened?"

He looked up, his eyes barely landing on her at all. "Oh, Time Lord thing. Artron energy, chemicals in the brain, background radiation, no sex for, ohhhh, a while." He paused and considered his words. "Well," he said, dragging the word out, "I say a while. Centuries?"

"And... you don't get to choose what you look like?" Though she didn't think so; he'd been surprised by not being ginger, and by being pretty.

"No. Well, some can," he amended, "but that's unusual. It's complicated. Regeneration is a bit like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna-- hang on, no. That's Forrest Gump."

Rose giggled, then bit her lip to hide it. He was a bit gabby, this one. "So, you're stuck looking like a pretty boy?"

His brows furrowed at her, his eyes finally finding her face again. "Oi. I'll have you know that's your fault."

"What?" She snorted, pushing at his shoulder.

"It's true. I'm influenced by those around me during regeneration." He pursed his mouth, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and biting on it a bit. "Accent too. That's all you."

She stared at him, not sure if she should believe him or not. "You're havin' me on."

"Nope." He popped the 'p' sound, and grinned at her.

She was horrified. Guilt swept through her. Why hadn't he mentioned anything? Why hadn't he at least brought up the possibility? But, no. Instead, he'd just shagged away, uncaring for his own life. Stupid git. "So not only did I kill you by shagging you, I also made you pretty and gave you your accent?"

"Well, this killing me thing is a bit more complicated than simply shagged-to-death. When a Time Lord dies, he regenerates. Ever heard of la petite mort?" He over-pronounced the T's, playing the words around in his mouth.

She nodded and grabbed a pair of knickers and a shirt to put on. As she dressed again, she watched him watch her in the mirror. It seemed some things didn't change with regeneration. He still liked watching her. "The little death. Shareen loved to call it that, thought it sounded better than climax or orgasm."

The Doctor cleared his throat and picked up his jumper from the other side of the bed. She saw, in the mirror, that his sheet was tenting a little and had to hide a snicker.

"Yes. That. It took a lot of little things to combine into one big thing to make me regenerate, but the bottom line is... we can't ever do this again." His eyes met hers in the mirror, letting her know he knew she was watching him.

"Well, that's one hell of an abstinence program," she mumbled, biting her lip. She turned away, sliding on a pair of jeans. "You can never have sex again? Ever?"

"Oh, no, I can. Just not with you."

She snapped around at that. "What? So, it _is_ my fault."

"No, it's not," he said hastily as he slid the jumper over his head, his eyes searching for his jeans. Spotting them a few yards away, he grabbed them up, released the sheet and stepped into them in one fluid motion. "Well, not exactly. It's you and me. Together."

"Why?" she mused, shoving her hands into her back pockets. "Something about humans, then?"

"No." He fastened his jeans, frowning at the looseness of them. The jumper was a bit baggy on him as well. He wasn't much shorter. Just thinner. "Not humans. You, Rose Tyler. Something in your chemical makeup reacted with my chemical makeup and a whole host of other things. All random, all natural. All deadly."

She blinked at him. Not that she had accepted him as the Doctor completely yet, and it felt a little like betrayal to be discussing this with him like this right now, but... now that she'd been told she couldn't ever sleep with him again, she suddenly wanted to. A lot.

"Never again?" she confirmed, just in case she'd heard him wrong. Never was a long time.

"Never again." His eyes found hers, then slid down to her lips, her chest. He tried to put his hands in his pockets, but faltered a little and ended up dropping them by his sides. "Not ever."

"Oh." She dropped her eyes to the floor, seeing all the blankets and pieces of clothing spread out everywhere and twisted her lips a little, feeling decidedly out of sorts. Her eyes rose to his again. "You're sure-- not even a little..." she gestured absently.

"Yes." He, too, looked unhappy about the decision. But, then he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Easy peasy. We went for months with... nothing. We can go back to that." And then he grinned and clapped his hands together excitedly, the matter of no-sex forgotten. "I need to find some new clothes! And you, Rose Tyler, should get some rest. Don't want your mum accusing me of mistreating you."

"What?" Admittedly she was paying more attention to his lips than his actual words when he spoke, but the mention of her mum snapped her out of her thoughts. "Mum?"

"That vase isn't going to deliver itself, now is it? Come on!" And with that, he strode out of her room.


	2. Ten Little Indians

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** La Petite Mort  
> **Character/Pairing in this chapter:** Ten/Rose  
> **Rating:** Adult, humor/angst/romance... did I mention the humor?  
> **Summary:** The Doctor never saw fit to warn Rose about things that could happen. And then they happened.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who... duh.  
> **Thanks:** to momdaegmorgan for the beta. Take a grain of salt and then read this story.

**(Tenth Doctor)**

Rose burst out laughing as the Doctor slammed the TARDIS door on the Olnic horde that was hellbent on forcing them to participate in either their annual ritual for blessing the crops or slaughtering their guests.

Either/or, the Doctor hadn't really been clear on which.

She leaned back against the TARDIS door as the sound of the mini villagers thunking against it resonated throughout the control room, causing her to laugh even harder. Grinning at the Doctor she cradled her stomach with both arms. Running for their lives and laughing most of the way back was good for the muscles, but by now she was aching. Leaning against the door beside her, he turned his head to look at her, his own grin just as wide as hers.

"You were scared," she taunted, pointing at him and laughing. "I saw the look on your face. You thought they were gonna get us."

"Rose," he chided in a strict voice that was completely ruined by his amusement, "have you ever seen an Olnic solstice? Oh, sure, at first it's fun. There's lots of chanting and candle-burning, and music. But then comes a naked romp through the fields." He grabbed her hand and drew her up the ramp to the console. "And those plants hurt! They're just the right size to get you in..." his eyes shot to hers, widening comically, "certain parts."

She chuckled and shoved at his shoulder. "Baby."

His hand caught hers before she could drop it and drew her into a tight hug. "Oh, yes. Definitely. But I also like my bits just how they are, thank you."

Rose knew he was only teasing. Only being the gigantic flirt that he was. But she couldn't help responding to him, teasing and flirting back just as much as him. "And what nice parts they are, too."

He didn't release her as she'd expected, just pulled back a little ways, resting his forehead on hers. "Your parts are rather nice as well." His smile was a bit seductive, his voice throaty and low. "Quite lovely, in fact."

She drew in a deep breath, shifting ever so slightly toward him, wanting a kiss, just a single kiss. Their breaths met and mingled. But rationality came flooding back in. She liked this Doctor and didn't want him to change again. "We can't do this." The words were a mere whisper, torn from her throat because there was no other way for them to come out.

She wanted him so badly. It'd been six months since the last time. Since he'd changed. And, if anything, she loved him even more now.

"No," he agreed, though his mouth moved a little closer, his eyes heavy-lidded. "We can't."

"It'd be bad." His lips were so close that each word brought them into contact with her own. So she spoke again. "I'm rather fond of this body." And then she went a little further and pressed her lips to his. Just once. Surely that wouldn't hurt anything.

He followed her when she pulled away, even the millimeter she withdrew being too much for both of them. "Oh, I'm fond of yours as well, Rose." His eyes sparkled at her as his hands slipped to her bum, pressing her closer to him. "Would it shock you to know that I dream about making love to you? Often." He closed the gap again, sliding his mouth over hers and nibbling on her lower lip before breaking away to draw a breath.

She licked her lips, feeling the loss like a missing limb. Inching closer still, she felt, not just his erection pressing into her stomach, but what felt like every single atom of his body burning into hers. "You dream of me often, or you dream of making love to me often?" Another kiss; brief, hard, hungry.

Her hands clawed his back, clenching and unclenching in his shirt. She closed here eyes reveling in the feel of him surrounding her.

"Both." His hands slid under her blouse, cool against her warmth. Long, slender fingers against firm, smooth skin. His mouth caught hers again, his tongue sliding in quickly, tasting her, just a small taste. "I want you, Rose." His voice was no longer sweet and tender, it was filled with a desperate need. "Every second of every day."

She groaned, drawing back in frustration. "It's not fair." Her eyes opened and she dropped her head back in frustration as her hands came up to press gently against his chest. "Are you sure--positively, absolutely sure--that it would happen again? I mean, there's not the smallest, littlest bit of doubt in your mind?" She knew her voice was begging, pleading him, but she was beyond caring

She wanted him so badly.

He pulled her back to him, his eyes not quite meeting hers. "There's a chance-- well, actually, from the numbers, there's a high probability that it won't happen again, but I don't have all the data yet, so--"

"What?" she snapped, sliding free of him to smack his shoulder. "You've been working this out, tryin' to find a way around it? You never said!"

His eyes followed her movements away from him. Still within reaching distance, almost touching him, but not quite doing so. "I wanted to know for sure first. Wanted it to be a surprise." He inhaled and let the breath go in a rush of air. "I didn't want to get your hopes up."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "And?"

He licked his lips, watching her chest as it rose and fell above the neckline of her blouse. "It's looking promising." His eyes slid to the console behind her. "I set the final figures running before we left, I'm just waiting on the--"

There was a loud beeping sound.

His eyes widened and he moved past her, darting around the console.

"Doctor?" She was on the edge of a knife blade, half of her wanted to panic that it was impossible, the other half wanted to celebrate that it was possible. "What's it say?"

He turned with a grin, sweeping her up into his arms. Their lips met with a bruising fierceness, but she didn't care. He was kissing her and that's all that mattered. Hot, hard kisses burned into her lips. His hands claimed all the skin he could touch, just as much as his lips claimed her mouth.

Her clothes were torn, tossed aside and stepped out of as fast as possible.

His were removed, yanked off and dropped.

Both of them littered the TARDIS floor with the detritus of their lovemaking.

He grabbed her bum, pulling her closer, letting her feel the hard flesh eager for her warmth. Gasps escaped her mouth, but were drowned out by his delighted groan when she clawed her fingernails down his back.

They didn't try for the console this time.

A support strut was their target destination, fast and hard against it. She wrapped her legs around his waist, a favorite place for her limbs, eagerly remembering the position from last time.

He thrust while she sank onto him grabbing and clawing at flesh. Smooth and hard at the same time, inflaming memories of their first, and only, time. His lips nipped, sucked, and licked against her neck before moving back up to her mouth. Her teeth pulled at his lip, possibly drawing blood.

She sank down on him again and again, tightening her legs around his thin waist while his strong arms supported her, never wavering, never letting go. His eyes were on hers as his body thrust into her. She felt tight around him, warm. Too warm. Sweat was dripping down her chest, drawing his eyes and then his tongue to follow the path. Inside her, he moved, hard, fast, seeking release, but not letting her lose sight of her own.

Pleasure rocketed through her as his hand dropped between their bodies, rubbing, teasing, circling. "God," she bit out, dropping her head back, closing her eyes as her body coiled up like a spring, tighter and tighter until she thought she'd explode.

And then she did.

Pleasure.

Release.

She opened her eyes lazily, resting her head on his chest. Her beautiful Doctor. Licking his shoulder, she scraped her teeth against it. Her mark from last time was gone and she wanted to leave something behind; evidence that she'd had him, and that he'd had her.

He thrust again, riding out her clenching muscles, reveling in the tighter friction her climax provided him. Again. And again. More. _Bloody hell._ Harder. _Yes._ Faster. _Rose._

And then he was coming, his hips bucking against hers, hitting her hard and nearly dislodging her position against him. Grunting in her ear, he collapsed against her, panting and gasping for breath.

Rose held herself still, waiting... waiting for something to alert her to him regenerating again. But nothing happened. He didn't stiffen against her like last time.

She opened her eyes to see his tender ones watching her somberly.

"Oops," he said softly, raising a hand to cup her cheek. "I'm sorry, Rose."

She felt his grip loosening, his legs beginning to give out. "No," she whispered, moving to make him put her down, but he held tighter, sinking to the floor to cradle her in his lap. Her lower lip started to tremble. "I don't want you to go."

The golden glow of his body was growing at a much quicker pace this time. Already he was bathed in it from head to toe.

"I'm sorry. The calculations were wrong." His hands cupped her cheeks tenderly, his eyes closing slowly as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips and then her forehead. "I'm glad I got to be with you before I changed."

"Don't say that," she cried. "We shouldn't have done this. We shouldn't have. It's my fault." She paused and drew in a ragged breath, whispering, "I keep killing you."

His body was enveloped in the golden light completely now, some of it escaping through his fingers, still on her face. She felt the warmth of his skin and knew that was wrong. He was burning before her eyes, again, and there was nothing she could do. All because of their stupid hormones.

"No, Rose. You were brilliant. Absolutely brilliant." His hands combed through her hair a few times, his eyes settling on the strands before returning to her face. "I love you. And that won't ch--" he gasped in pain, doubling over as much as he could with her in his lap. "--won't change when I do."

"I lo--" she got out before his body went taut and light flowed out of him.

His hair shortened and lightened, and she caught a glimpse of dark blonde through the bright light pouring out of him. His arms were thicker--more muscular--his legs beneath her were as well. The flesh inside of her was thinner, longer, and, she realized, hardening.

And then the light faded and she was looking at another new Doctor.

He drew in a deep breath and grinned at her. Still grinning, always grinning. "Well, then, bit of a rubbish idea, that one."

She pushed at him and tried to climb off of his lap at the same time. He released her and watched as she clambered to her feet, putting his hands behind him on the floor to lean back. Still watching her.

Her eyes skimmed over him, from his--she choked on something between a laugh and a sob--ginger hair, to his half-mast erection.

He let her look her fill--seemed to actually want her to--and waited.

"You're ginger," she told him in a flat tone before turning to gather her clothes from the floor. She pulled her blouse over her head and then stepped into her knickers.

Still the Doctor sat. "Rose."

She paused in the middle of buttoning her jeans. Her eyes didn't quite meet his. She'd already seen them. They were still brown, though different now: narrower, larger, a slightly lighter shade. "Yeah."

"It's still me. There may even still be licking this time 'round." His eyes slid to hers, full of predatory promise before he got distracted by his shorter hair.

She flicked her eyes back to the floor. "I know it's you." A small shrug followed her words.

He looked about the same age as the Doctor he'd just replaced. Maybe a year or two older. But she knew it was him. Manic moods, distracted quite easily one moment and fully focused on something the next; there could be no doubt. After all, she'd been through this a couple of times now.

The Doctor glanced her way and she saw him roll his eyes a little, reminding her of her first Doctor.

"Oh, come on, Rose. It's not the end of the universe. Granted, we can't have sex again," his eyes ran over her slowly, disappointment showing clearly on his face, "and that's a bit of a shame, but we'll live." He stopped and stared into the air in front of him, frowning. "Was that a pun? Did I pun there?" Shaking himself, he straightened up and ran a hand down his abdomen critically, appraising the flat stomach and chest beneath his hand before turning his eyes back to her. "I don't like puns."

She raised an eyebrow at him, lips twitching. "No worries. That wasn't really anywhere near a pun...."

"Excellent!" He jumped to his feet and she noticed that he was still taller than her by quite a bit, but shorter than her other two Doctors. He frowned at the floor, then bent to pick up his white dress shirt. "Pinstriped suit," he mused. He swung the shirt on and tried to button it. "Smaller hands. I'm shorter too." His eyes settled on something behind her and he went to pick it up. "Chucks with a suit," he muttered, sighing. The shoe went flying over his shoulder and his grin was back in place. "New me, or rather, new, new, new me," he said with a wink.

"Yeah," she agreed, looking at his unbuttoned shirt. It was too narrow now. He was similar in build to her first Doctor, and the suit would never fit him. He'd never wear it again.

He held his hand out to her, waggling his fingers.

She tightened her lips and held her shoes to her chest, refusing to go to this new Doctor. She wanted the last one back.

Undaunted, he moved over to her and grabbed her hand, forcing her to drop one of her shoes to the metal grating. He twined their fingers. "Still me," he said in his new voice, which was richer sounding. And there was a bit of a Manchester accent there. "Still the Doctor. And you're still Rose, and this is still the TARDIS. And I--" he said, gesturing at his lack of clothing, "--am in dire need of new clothes. Really, what was I thinking? Pinstripes and chucks?" He shook his head despairingly and rolled his eyes. "Neither here nor there, though. Rose Tyler, stop moping and help me pick something out."

She cleared her throat and bent to pick up her fallen shoe. Help him replace the other Doctor with new clothes? She couldn't do it. Wouldn't do it. "'M a bit tired. Think I'll go to bed. Night... Doctor."

He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder before she'd made it more than three steps. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no. This is bonding time. Me. You. Clothes." He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. "D'you know I have a sudden craving for pretzels. And Radelion nectar." He looked pleased by this new development. "I haven't had a decent Radelion nectar in ages."

Rose sighed. She didn't want to brush him off, but it would take getting used to this new Doctor. Again. She just didn't want to do it now, not this soon. She wanted to mourn the other Doctor like she'd mourned her first one.

She hated this. Hated that she was responsible for killing him, for making him into a new man, for needing to reacquaint herself with a new him, again.

"Oh," he said with a distasteful twist of his lips, "no pity parties in the TARDIS. I don't like pity parties."

Rose yanked her arm free and left him behind, pretty sure she heard him groan out a disgusted, "Bugger!"


	3. Dial it Up to Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** La Petite Mort  
> **Character/Pairing in this chapter:** Eleven/Rose  
> **Rating:** Adult, humor/angst/romance... did I mention the humor?  
> **Summary:** The Doctor never saw fit to warn Rose about things that could happen. And then they happened.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who... duh.  
> **Thanks:** to momdaegmorgan for the beta. Take a grain of salt and then read this story.

**(Eleventh (alternate) Doctor)**

The Doctor was underneath the console, examining wires he'd been meaning to replace for ages. The huge bundle was mostly intact, but every once in a while he came across a fraying wire that needed repaired or replaced. And right now was an excellent time to do this.

Not that he was avoiding Rose or anything, but... well, yes, he was.

She'd been eyeing him for the past few hours, and he wasn't quite sure why. However, he wasn't particularly fond of the speculative look gracing her features. So, he'd decided now was the perfect time to repair and replace fraying wires.

Footsteps sounded just out of sight of the console and he sighed.

So much for avoiding her.

Her bare feet didn't make much noise as she stopped beside him, but he heard her anyway, felt her, knew she was there. His body was hyper-aware of her, tuned in to her more than he'd ever been tuned into anyone that wasn't Gallifreyan. She didn't say anything as he tore a wire from its place under the console and examined it. He expected her to call his name, clear her throat, something, but she did nothing.

She just stood there waiting.

His eyes flickered over her legs, noting with disappointment that they were covered in denim.

After a minute with no sound other than the sonic screwdriver humming over the damaged wire, he sighed and set the wire down. He had no patience, this new him, none at all.

He climbed to his feet and brushed his jeans off, turning to face her, a strained smile forming on his lips. "Hello, Rose. How are you? Did you need something?"

Ignoring his sarcasm, she crossed her arms over her chest. "I've been thinking." He was sure it wasn't intentional, but the movement still brought his attention to the region. Unfortunately-- no, fortunately, it was as covered as her legs were.

And the fact that he had turned into a randy teenager somewhere along the line did not escape his notice.

"Ah," he said acerbically, trying to cover up his wandering eyes and thoughts. "A noble pursuit, thinking. You should keep that up, it's good for the brain."

She sighed and gave him an amused look. "That sense of humor just isn't getting any better, is it?" Without waiting for a reply, she unfolded her arms and held up a small square of silver between her fingers.

His eyes moved from the package she was holding up, to her face. A single eyebrow rose. "A condom." To say he was startled would be an understatement.

They could not have sex again. Ever. Not ever, ever, ever again. Despite how much he wanted to. God, how he wanted to. And she did as well, no matter how many times she told him she didn't fancy his new body.

She was a little liar.

"Gosh, Rose, and here I didn't get you anything." Sarcasm seemed to serve him well this incarnation. Or maybe it was just that he liked using it.

Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that the woman he wanted to shag to death was permanently out of bounds and yet was standing before him with a condom.

She grinned, biting her lip in that way she had of removing all higher thoughts from his mind. And sometimes the ones in the mid-region as well.

He took the package from her. "Thanks." Glancing quickly at the wrapper, he couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "Banana-flavored."

"Yep," she said, the way he used to when he wore pinstripes and trainers.

He slipped the condom into his back pocket. "Uh, quick question. Do you imagine me suddenly being in dire need of a condom in the future? On Likordya perhaps, our next destination?"

She chuckled and smirked at him. "Not on Likordya."

"Ah, so you're not sending me off to get shagged then?" Not that it would have been first time if she had. During one particularly memorable argument, she'd told him to go back to Versailles to shag Reinette, although she hadn't been as polite as all that.

They hadn't spoken for a good twenty-four hours after that conversation.

And right now, she was looking at him in annoyance. "Told you, I've been thinking. About those chemical levels? Well," she stopped and leaned against the console, trying to look casual and unconcerned, but he could see the hope and tension in her. "They go down after we have sex, yeah?"

"Yes," he agreed, setting the sonic screwdriver on top of the console. "They're at about twenty-seven percent right now, give or take. Dropping minutely--about point zero two percent--per month." He crossed his arms against his chest, leaning his own hip against the console. "Got a theory about that." Leaning toward her, he grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "What _do_ you get up to at night, Miss Tyler? 'Cause, if it's anything like what I get up to..." he trailed off, smirking at her.

Rose opened her mouth, not really registering his words until a few seconds later. Then she smacked him. "Oi!"

His grin widened.

She rolled her eyes and scratched the back of her neck under her hair. "Anyway. There's no magic drug or medicine to block the chemicals, you've said, right? So, why not treat it like an STD? Suit up."

The Doctor blinked at her.

"Wear a condom." She straightened up, stuck one hand in her back pocket, and chewed on the thumbnail of her other hand.

Ah. He wished he could lie like his other self had, flat out lie to her and tell her it was safe. But he couldn't do that. He only had two lives left, and as much as the idea of death-by-shagging appealed to his baser self, he still had a brilliant brain that wasn't about to let that happen.

Not again anyway.

So, even though he hated to do it, he'd have to dash her hopes. "Rose, a condom isn't going to do the job. Ten condoms wouldn't do the job."

"Oh."

Eyeing her closely, he noticed for the first time the slight flush to her skin, the heat coming from her, and the brightness of her eyes. "Are you drunk?" he asked suspiciously.

She shook her head, dropping the hand from her mouth, holding her thumb and index finger a small ways apart. "No. I just had a small glass of your Rme-- Mar-- Medallion necktie." She grinned and straightened up. "You were right. It's gorgeous."

"Radelion nectar," he corrected with a chuckle. "And, yes, it is." Staring into Rose's flushed face with her lingering smile and dark brown eyes watching him closely, he wasn't sure whether he was talking about her or the nectar. "But, it's also dangerous." And again he wasn't sure which he was talking about. Shaking himself mentally, he stepped closer and took her hand, checking her pulse. "Too much of it, for a human, can cause... certain side effects."

She drew even closer, raising an eyebrow at him, pressing against him as much as she could with their hands between them. "Yeah?"

As fast as her pulse was racing, he knew the side effects had already hit her. She was turned on and it would only get worse.

"Bloody hell, Rose. I told you not to drink it!" At least, he thought he had. Maybe it'd slipped his mind... for three months.

"'S alright," she said softly. "Told you," she tapped her temple with her finger, "been thinking."

"Anything you think up under the influence of Radelion nectar is going to be rubbish or not doable. Might as well stop now because condoms won't help. The chemical isn't something that can be stopped by a piece of latex; it's all over the body. Every touch, every bead of sweat, every..." he took a deep breath, shoving all thoughts of a naked, sweat-slicked Rose out of his mind. "Every time we touch during the act, the chemical is released and it passes from one to the other, combining into a deadly--"

"Yeah, all right," she agreed, dismissing that as nothing. "But there are other things we can do. Right?" She pulled her hand free from his loose grip and slid it down between them, down the front of his jeans. "Without nakedness." She rubbed her hand over him, moving even closer, biting her lip and watching his face.

Smirking when he began to harden under her fingers.

As much as he wanted to say yes, he couldn't. It was too dangerous. "Rose, I don't think--"

"So don't," she told him, lips hovering over his.

But he couldn't not think. "It won't work, Rose."

She laughed and turned her head to whisper in his ear. "Seems to be working just fine to me."

He grabbed her hand and moved it away from him, then turned her so her back was against the console. Pressing his body up against her, pushing his erection--aching already--into her stomach, he made sure she felt just how much it was working. Then he stepped back once, twice, and closed his eyes briefly at the loss. Could a man die of want? "That won't lower the levels much more than if I did it myself."

Her lips curved up wickedly. "Be a lot more fun though."

She had him there. It would be more fun, loads more fun. The problem was, he didn't think he could keep his hands off her afterwards.

Nor would he be able to return the favor. And he wanted to, almost more than he wanted her hands on him.

She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest again. "Fine. What about not touching then? What if just one part of me touched just one part of you?"

His mind went to a nice happy place at that thought.

She closed the distance between them again, licking her lips as she looked down. "Every time we have sex, the levels go down. If my hand won't make enough of a difference, then... maybe other parts of me would make the levels go down a bit quicker than they would naturally."

Despite knowing it wasn't going to happen, despite thinking he was the biggest idiot in the universe for even asking, he did it anyway. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, his voice huskier than normal.

Rose's eyes darkened even more and, instead of answering, she dropped to her knees, her eyes still on him. Licking her lips again, she reached for his belt. "My mouth," she said in the sexiest voice he'd ever heard, "and your..." she paused in the process of unhooking his belt to grin impudently up at him. "Dangly bits."

He groaned aloud at the words, letting his eyes slide shut as he grew harder just thinking about it. Imagined being inside her warm mouth, her lips wrapped around him, her tongue doing wicked things that he wanted to do to her as well.

But he couldn't let her, no matter how much he wanted it. And, yes, he did want it. He wanted to scream it from the top of his lungs for all and sundry to hear, that he, the Doctor, wanted Rose Tyler's mouth wrapped around him.

Mouth, he thought suddenly. Just her mouth. And just his rapidly growing erection. With a condom. Minimal touching. Little to no contact with hands... as long as they were careful.

He glanced down at her, finding her watching him work it out. She'd moved her hands from his belt to rub against his straining erection, still encased in its denim cage.

Was it possible? Would it work?

His mind worked frantically, considering the situation, the levels currently in them, the lack of touching, the... oh.

Rose's hands slipped open his fly, her breath wafting over his stomach as she worked.

His attention flagged for a moment before working more feverishly. It might be possible, could just work, may be doable.

Her hands helped him decide. Fingers not touching him, she carefully lowered his jeans. Against his better judgment, and common sense, he grabbed the condom from his pocket and helped shove his jeans down, out of the way.

All thoughts of dying fled his mind as he tore open the package. All he could think about was her mouth surrounding him, her tongue sliding along his length, warm lips wrapping around him just as he'd been fantasizing about almost nightly.

He breathed in her smell, resisting the urge to reach out to touch her.

A small voice in the back of his mind was telling him this wasn't going to end well, but he shut it up and rolled the condom on.

Rose watched him work, licking her lips eagerly. And then those same lips, hot and wet, moved over his flesh.

He exhaled slowly.

Gripping the captain's chair behind him as she swirled her tongue--good god--his hips arched uncontrollably, fingers tightening as their eyes met.

His breath was leaving him in gasps, sounds he was used to hearing at night as he touched himself in bed with only his thoughts of Rose surrounding him.

But now, oh, now, with her mouth around him, he was convinced this wouldn't hurt him. That anything this wonderful couldn't be bad. Her mouth moved on him, lips pressing close and sliding along his length, fingers grasping his jeans, which were pooled around his feet. She flattened her tongue against the tip of him and he jerked forward.

He wanted to touch her, to taste her with this mouth. He still had a bit of an oral fixation in this body. He already knew from their previous times that she was salty and sweet and tangy and smooth.

Hand in his own hair instead of hers, he watched her and shuddered when she pleased him.

Hot mouth, cool flesh, wet tongue.

His hips jerked--once, twice--then stilled, and he was still hard. He hadn't come yet, but he was close. She released him with a wet pop and played her tongue along the top, circling around the head, watching him, seeing the strain it was taking on him. His fingers tightened in his hair. More, he was urging silently, his eyes on hers, darker than he'd ever seen them. Faster, more, lighter, harder, again and again.

Once more.

And then he came. Hips jerking.

Rose didn't draw back as he'd expected, but then again, she had no reason to, he remembered. He was wearing the bloody banana-flavored condom. His eyes fixed on hers and he felt such tenderness as she gazed up at him.

But he also felt something else. Something burning through him slowly, heating him from toes to hair, fingers and teeth. It was happening again. Knowing there was no harm now, he dropped to his knees and kissed her, reaching down to return the favor. She pulled back, gasping.

"No, you can't--" she started, but he cut her off with another kiss.

His hands fumbled at her jeans, desperately wanting to touch her intimately just once in this body before he was gone again. "Bloody-" he bit out, unable to tear them open fast enough. Once they were open, he slipped his hand down her knickers and sighed. A second later, he began moving his fingers, not bothering with sweet tender touches.

* * *

Rose gasped as the Doctor slipped his hand inside her jeans, touching her aching body with his nimble fingers. She didn't think they should push their luck, so she grabbed his hand and stilled it. "Doctor--" again, he cut her off.

"It doesn't matter now," he said, staring down at her with an unblinking gaze, his eyes telling her more than his words.

She shook her head and shoved herself away from him, scrabbling a few feet away, her fingers finding purchase in the small holes of the metal grating. She dropped to her bum, tears filling her eyes. "No. Not again."

Her pleas went unanswered, because he was starting to glow.

"Rose." He frowned, searching for something to say, but settled instead for removing the condom and tossing it into a compartment in the bottom of the console that she thought might be a rubbish bin. He started to his feet, tripping over denim before yanking his jeans up to his waist, leaving them unfastened. "Silver lining? The levels will drop again."

"That's not funny," she yelled, feeling her heart go still in her chest for a moment when he bent over in pain. "I wanna go home. As soon as you change, take me home."

"No!" he bit out, grinding his teeth and darting forward. "I'm not letting you leave me, Rose. I made the decision--"

"I forced the issue. I made you..." she trailed off and swiped at her tears, "made you," she finished with a sniff.

"No, you didn't," he retorted, pulling her to her feet. "I'm a nine-hundred-year-old Time Lord; I make my own decisions."

He was glowing brightly now, and she knew it wouldn't be long before he once again changed.

She hugged him, letting out a sob. The Doctor pulled back and wiped under her eyes with his thumbs, smiling at her.

"Stay with me," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her softly.

She nodded, not sure whether he meant now, during the change, or afterwards, for the forever she'd promised him when he wore pinstripes. "I love you."

"I know." He tossed her a wink.

She was a horrible person. Horrible. She treated men like rubbish, like they were no better than a used condom. Just look at how she'd treated Mickey.

She drew in a breath, letting it out in a shuddering sob. "I'm sorry, Doctor."

And then he was suffused with light. His arms tightened around her almost painfully, but she didn't let go. She watched his face change and saw his skin darken.

_I'm influenced by those around me during regeneration._

For a brief moment those words from his first regeneration returned to her and she thought fate or the Doctor or her own mind was playing a cruel joke on her.

He looked like Mickey. Was he going to look like the man she'd just been thinking about? The man she'd first treated like a piece of rubbish?

She didn't think the Doctor would like that at all.

But then, she blinked and drew back a little to look at him better.

His skin darkened past Mickey's skin color, his hair shortened a bit and his nose got longer, thinner. She wouldn't be able to see him properly until he was finished and the light faded, but from what she could see, he was just as handsome as his previous incarnations.

Her fault. Would he sound like her again?

Seconds later, he sagged against her. Not expecting it, she dropped to the floor, holding on to him. She ran her hands down his back, holding him close, not wanting to let him go because then she'd have to face the changes. Face what she'd done, yet again, to the last Time Lord in the universe.

His hands stroked down her back in parallel of her own movements before he pulled away to look down at her.

His eyes were a beautiful shade of brown. Had she influenced his eye color these last three times?

God, three times she'd killed him!

He was taller again; even sitting, he was a few inches taller than his last body. She moved back, releasing her hold on him. His eyes searched hers, his own solemn and serious as he cupped her cheek and used his thumb to wipe a tear away.

And then he grinned, showing all his teeth. "I'm pretty again, aren't I? You just can't keep from making me pretty." His hands moved to his face, one hand feeling his lips. "Thinner. No, just the one." He pulled on his lower lip. "Yep, I think it's thinner." His other hand moved over his nose and brow. "Hmm. Stronger chin, smaller forehead, bigger ears. Though," he looked over at her and winked, "not like before, thank goodness." His eyes suddenly landed on his hands. "Ooh, look at that! I've never been black before."

His grin widened and he held up his hands for her to see.

He did sound like her. Well, not quite like her. More like her pinstripes and Chucks Doctor.

He looked over his arms, inspecting them, ran his tongue over his teeth, and then raised his hands to feel his hair.

Rose chuckled at his enthusiasm. Even in the direst situations possible he still found boundless energy and enthusiasm to inspire those around him. Or annoy rulers into ordering his death. It was really an either/or thing with the Doctor.

At the thought of death, she remembered why he now looked like this. She pulled away and climbed to her feet trying to think of the best way to get him to take her home. She could lie and just ask to see her mum, then sneak out and refuse to get back into the TARDIS.

Mickey and her mum would back her up. Mickey, on better terms with the last doctor he'd seen--the pinstripes one--would take her side, no question. And, of course her mum would tell her to stay. Get a job. Live a normal life.

She'd probably even offer to slap the Doctor if Rose thought that'd help.

The Doctor got to his feet, too preoccupied with looking over his new body to notice her straying thoughts. She looked at him absently, noting that his body was more muscular, not as stocky as before, nor as wiry as before that. He had less hair, more like her first Doctor. And he was just as handsome as all of the others she'd met and killed.

"Take me home," she whispered, not sure if she wanted him to hear or not.

He did hear. His head snapped around, his eyes searching hers, disappointment and maybe a little bit of panic warring in them. "No. No, you said you'd stay. You can't leave."

"I can't stay," she retorted, backing away when he moved forward to take her hand. "I'm too dangerous to be around you now. Should've left a long time ago. You'd still have extra bodies left over if I had, not be on your next to last one."

He considered that with a twist of his lips. "Yeah, but..." his eyes fixed over her shoulder, widening a bit. "Rose, come here."

She shook her head and stepped back further. "No. Take me ho--"

Bright white light swirled behind her, around her, encasing her in it. She felt warmth and a tugging feeling in her stomach. Her hand, near the captain's chair, reached out, grabbing for the battered white vinyl, but hit air instead.

"Rose!" The Doctor darted forward, touching just the tips of her fingers as she was drawn backwards, out of the ship.

Rose felt the tugging increase, heard the Doctor's yells echoing through her head and then everything went black.


	4. Rose Ex Machina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** La Petite Mort  
> **Character/Pairing in this chapter:** Twelve/Rose  
> **Rating:** Adult, humor/angst/romance... did I mention the humor?  
> **Summary:** The Doctor never saw fit to warn Rose about things that could happen. And then they happened.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who... duh.  
> **Thanks:** to momdaegmorgan for the beta. Take a grain of salt and then read this story.

**(Twelfth Doctor)**

Rose stared, terrified, at the Anne Droid, not quite believing she was there. Really there. With people being killed because they couldn't answer stupid game show questions right. This was disgusting. It was inhuman. "I'm not meant to be here," she told the emotionless robot, trying to calm the hysterical note in her voice. The impassive Anne Droid paid her no mind and Rose switched to muttering to herself. "I need to find the Doctor, he's got to be here somewhere; he's always here. He wouldn't just _leave_ me."

At least, she didn't think he would. She hadn't really got to know him though, had she? But, as far as she knew, he wouldn't leave her. He was still the Doctor, after all. Still the man she knew, the man she loved.

He would come for her. He had to. There was no alternative. The Doctor, no matter what he looked like, would always come for her.

The Anne Droid addressed the man by her side, paying Rose's outbreak no heed. "Rodrick, you are the strongest link, you will be transported home with one-thousand six-hundred credits."

"Oh, thank you, thank you so much," the man beside her said gratefully, his exuberance making Rose a little nauseous.

She knew he was just happy to be alive, but the fact that he didn't care that his fellow players had just been killed because he'd voted for them bothered Rose. He didn't care about any of them. And right now, he didn't care that Rose was about to be killed as well.

She leaned over the podium, gripping it 'til her knuckles turned white and her fingers ached. "This game is illegal," she shouted at no one in particular. "I'm telling you to stop."

"Rose!"

For a moment, Rose felt the world tilt on its axis. She heard the Doctor--the new Doctor--the one she hardly knew and loved with everything in her. A moment of pure happiness shot through her.

And then she remembered the Anne Droid.

"Rose," the Droid intoned, "you leave this life with nothing--"

"I order you to stop this game," the Doctor shouted, his deep voice reverberating through Rose. But she could also hear the near panic in his voice. He started running toward her and fear knotted in her stomach.

She shoved the podium away and darted across the stage, running to the Doctor.

"You are the weakest link," she heard the Anne Droid say.

This body of the Doctor's, it was his second to last. She couldn't let him die again. Not because of her. Not because of any of these people. These stupid, cruel people who killed game show contestants for fun. For entertainment. He only had one more life after this one and the universe needed him.

"Look out for the Anne Droid, it's armed," she shouted, running harder, fisting her hands, feeling her nails breaking through the skin of her palms.

She saw a blonde girl standing behind the Doctor, and a tall lanky boy; both about her age, both looking equally as terrified as she was.

And then something hit her back and she screamed.

* * *

"Take me back!" Rose beat her hands on the solid surface and let a sob break free. "Take me back!"

The TARDIS door didn't open and no magic answer made itself known in her mind.

She turned around and ran toward the console, flipping switches and turning knobs like she'd seen the Doctor do a thousand times before.

But the TARDIS didn't stop, didn't return her to the GameStation. She gasped for air and turned back to the Doctor, glaring at him as he spoke, not paying her the slightest bit of attention, except with his last words.

He stood there all floppy brown hair, freckled skin and pinstripes, see-through and nattering on about emergency programmes.

"...Emergency Programme One. Rose, listen very carefully; if this message is activated it means we're in danger. Big danger. The worst kind." His blue figure tilted his head to the side, considering his words. "And I don't just mean your typical Slonmar fleet or Pilnorg attack. This is big-big."

Rose blocked out the Doctor's voice and went back to flipping and twisting controls. If she was lucky, which she never really was, she might just hit upon the right combination of dials and knobs. Wiping her running nose with the back of her hand, she sniffed and twisted a large black and white dial, watching the numbers spin by faster than her eyes could take in.

Uncaring of the fact that she was trying to ignore him, the Doctor continued rambling to her left.

"--fatal death. Well, of course death is always fatal... unless you're a Time Lord." He scratched his head and cleared his throat. "Anyway, death is probably looming and imminent--imminently looming?--and that's-- well, not fine as such, but it's all right, I suppose. I've had a good life. Better since meeting you. Better with two." She heard him sigh and saw him stand up straighter out of the corner of her eye.

"Shut up," she snarled, smacking her palm against the flat red button across from the jump seat. Tears slipped from her eyes and she swiped at them with another sniffle. "You're still a stupid git no matter what you look like."

"--promised Jackie I'd look after you, and I think I've done an admirable job so far. But, I can't take the chance that you'll die too."

His voice lowered and Rose's hands stilled. She turned to look at him; his figure wavered before her watery eyes.

"Not if I can help it. So, I'm sending you home. And you can just stop trying to work the TARDIS, because it's not going to do a lick of good." He paused and gave a world-weary sigh. "You always were a bit rubbish at listening, weren't you?"

Rose gave him a two-fingered salute and grabbed one of the hammers from their hooks. She moved around the console, looking for a good spot to hit, but couldn't bring herself to do it. The hammer slipped from slack fingers, dropping to the metal grating.

"--the TARDIS die. She's got a chameleon circuit, so no one will notice her unless they're looking for her. And don't you go spending all your time in her either." He held up a long finger, admonishing her. And sudden as a flash, he was turning to look directly at her. She'd been expecting it this time, so she didn't react more than to raise her eyes to his face. "I love you, Rose." He smiled softly and Rose had to stifle another sob. "Now go live your life and be brilliant." His grin rose even higher and filled with pride and admiration. "Oh, go live your life and be brilliant for me."

Frantically, she spun more dials, flipped more switches, and hit more buttons.

And then the TARDIS landed.

Heart in her throat, she ran to the door and yanked it open, hoping she'd somehow managed to stop his stupid programme from taking her home, but all she saw was London. The Powell Estate was nearby, she knew. She saw Mickey running for her, grinning from ear to ear and she couldn't take it anymore. She leaned against the TARDIS and broke down crying.

* * *

The Doctor watched in disbelief, feeling panic take him as the TARDIS landed back where it'd been before he sent her home with Rose inside. She was supposed to stay there, in London. Safe! Not carry her precious cargo back to the one place in the entire universe where a fleet of Daleks was waiting to kill them all and take her as a door prize.

The door opened and such a bright golden glow poured out that the Doctor had to cover his eyes to keep from being blinded. He stumbled backward, feeling as if the light itself was pushing him back, pushing him to his knees. Over his forearm, he blinked at the sight that met his eyes.

His beautiful, gorgeous Rose stood in the doorway with golden ribbons of luminescence curling around her like wisps of smoke. He stumbled backward, feeling wonder pour through him at the vision Rose had become.

"Oh, Rose, what did you do?" he whispered, getting a hand underneath him to hold himself up. She was filled with radiance, emanating golden heat like that of a thousand suns. And he was terrified.

She looked down at him, her normally brown eyes filled with white-hot brightness. "I looked into the TARDIS, and the TARDIS looked into me," she told him, and her voice was different. Not that of a London shop girl anymore. It was regal and knowing, full of strength and wisdom. There was an otherworldly tone to it.

The Doctor knew it was worse than just looking into the heart of the TARDIS. Oh, no, this was much worse. She hadn't just looked into the heart of the TARDIS, she'd looked beyond. Too deep for any human to be able to handle. Or a Time Lord. She'd never be able to control the power surging through her. "You looked into the time vortex," he told her, his voice shaking just the slightest bit. "Rose, no one's meant to see that." His desperate voice sounded faint and unimpressive to his ears, like talking in the middle of a hurricane. He tried not to cower before her, but he was unable to keep a shudder from going through him. Rose was in a dangerous position right now. There was too much power swirling through her with no outlet, no conscience, and no rules to guide her.

She was as dangerous right now as the fleet of Daleks just beyond the confines of the space station. More so even.

"This is the abomination!" the Dalek Emperor screeched, its gravelly voice horrible to listen to under normal circumstances. Right now, it was like nails down a chalkboard beside Rose's careful, calm tones.

"Exterminate," shouted a Dalek behind him and the Doctor found himself equally terrified for Rose's life and afraid of what she might do. Might be able to do.

He heard the Dalek ray fire and saw Rose raise her hand. That shiver of fear went through him again, but beneath that, there was a spark of exhilaration. The ray froze in midair and reversed back in to the Dalek's gun. The Doctor stared at it and then turned his gaze to Rose.

"I am the Bad Wolf," she intoned. "I create myself. I take the words..." she held her hand out to the wall, her stiff wrist moving her hand in a sweeping gesture. "I scatter them in time and space." The letters spelling out Bad Wolf Corporation pulled from the wall and separated, moving through the air, floating away. "A message to lead myself here."

The Doctor got to his knees, imploring her. "Rose, you've got to stop this. You've got to stop this now." She didn't reply or even look at him, and that frightened him more than anything. "Rose, listen to me; you've got the entire vortex running through your head." He leaned forward, daring to push himself to his feet. "You're gonna burn!"

He wasn't sure if it was the words, his tone, or his sudden movement, but Rose seemed to hear him. She turned to look at him, the white and gold swirling light licking lovingly at her body as she moved. "I want you safe," she said simply and he was sure he saw glimpses of brown in her eyes.

Rose's eyes, not the Bad Wolf.

The Doctor felt humbled. She'd swallowed the entire vortex just to keep him safe. To make sure he didn't die. She was saving him, when all he wanted was for her to be safe.

"My Doctor," she continued, staring at him across the few feet that separated them now. And then her eyes were gold again. "Protected from the false god."

The Emperor Dalek shot back immediately, unflappable in its belief that what it said was absolute truth. "You cannot hurt me. I am immortal." Nevertheless, the Doctor thought he detected a hint of panic and fear beneath the conviction.

"You are tiny," Rose said, her voice flat and stately again. "I can see the whole of time and space, every single atom of your existence. And I divide them." Her hand Rose up and the Dalek in the middle was turned into golden particles. "Everything must come to dust. All things. Everything dies." She looked to the side and turned the row of Daleks there into dust as well. "The Time War ends."

The Emperor Dalek began to shout, and there was definitely fear in his grating voice this time. "I will not die! I cannot die!" And then it was gone, just like the rest. Golden particles floated through space where the fleet had been.

Rose stood with her arm still raised, staring ahead, and the Doctor saw her begin to shake. Her whole body was quivering with the power surging through her. It was taking a toll on her, and he knew everything wasn't going to be all right this time. It was killing her.

"You've done it, Rose. Stop now." She didn't speak, didn't move. The Doctor felt a frisson of fear go through him. "Let go of it, Rose, please. Let go of the power." He moved closer.

"How can I let go of this?" she asked in a blissful tone. He knew the power's grip on her was nearly complete now. "I bring life."

The Doctor felt something go through him, felt a burning sensation begin in his abdomen and soar through to his extremities. He glanced down at himself and saw the orange-gold light he'd been consumed by eleven times now. Horror began to tear at him as he felt bones reshape themselves and skin change texture. His head throbbed as the regeneration process began to eat through him in a way unlike anything he'd ever felt before. This wasn't just death and rebirth, this was something different.

Something new.

Desperate, not knowing if she was killing him somehow, for some reason of her own, he grabbed her arms, but hissed at the heat beneath his palms. She was burning hot, searing his fingers as they knitted and re-knitted themselves into new fingers. Different shapes, different lengths, different colors, different textures. "This is wrong," he shouted to her, hearing a Northern accent. "You can't control life and death!"

Rose surprised him by looking at him once again, and he shivered at the ancient power he saw in her eyes. "But I can. The sun and the moon. The day and night." She paused and her voice turned small and plaintive. "But why do they hurt?"

"The power's gonna kill you," he told her, his physical pain nothing to the anguish moving through him at the thought of Rose dying. "And it's my fault." He lowered his head and gritted his teeth, fighting the guilt, the pain, and the hopelessness that was trying to get the better of him. He was failing Rose, and he couldn't allow himself to do that.

He raised his head and fought to stay upright as his bones continued to shift inside his skin, reshaping themselves like branches being shoved inside a bin bag.

"I can see everything," she said, her voice small. A tear fell down her cheek, following the path others had already taken. "All that is. All that was. All that ever could be."

This, the Doctor understood. She was feeling and seeing everything he did, every minute of every day, no matter how far he went into the past or future, no matter how deep he traveled into the center of the universe or to the very edges of it. He saw it all, and sometimes, just sometimes, it made him want to scream and tear his hair out. "That's what I see," he told her softly. "All the time. And doesn't it drive you mad?" His voice was that of a cricket-playing blonde man from long ago.

Rose's voice was tiny when she answered. "My head..."

Drawing Rose toward him, he whispered, "Come here."

"...it's killing me," Rose whispered, leaning into his touch, seeking his comfort.

Pressing a soft kiss along her hairline, he threaded his hands through her hair and looked down on her one last time with these eyes. He didn't know which incarnation's eyes he was looking through, but it didn't matter to him. He still loved her and he always would. Even if he ended up a mismatched, hastily sewn together Doctor, he'd still love Rose Tyler. Even if he looked like a Doctor she'd never met.

She was his one constant.

"I think you need a doctor," he muttered, smiling inwardly at the cheesy line. As he leaned down to kiss the power out of her, she suddenly pushed him away and held her hands out.

"I bring life," she repeated, and golden light flew from her palms to wrap around his body.

He felt it again; the regeneration process was beginning. Orange and red light flew from him, stronger than had ever happened before. It darkened the brightness of the golden light still swirling around her body like a lover's caress. Pain gripped him, forcing him to double over and grit his teeth. "Rose," he implored, nearly gagging at the sound of snapping and crunching bones as they continued to shift painfully under his skin.

More rapidly now. Everything was going so fast he couldn't keep up. Longer arms. Taller body. Shorter hair. Bigger ears. New teeth. Rough skin. Good eyesight. Bad hearing.

Everything was pushed to its extreme and then slid over the edge into blinding pain. He fell to the floor, gasping her name.

But she wouldn't stop. Her body was beginning to glow brighter, and Rose herself was disappearing into it. The edges of her body became a blurry film of nothing, surrounded by luminescence. His eyes closed and then snapped open again as a burning sensation seared through muscles and sinew. The blood pumping in his veins grew hot and sluggish, nearly boiling under his skin.

Then the pain was amped up by a million and he screamed and he couldn't stop. He screamed and he screamed.

And then there was nothing.

The pain disappeared. Bones stilled beneath flesh. Blood flowed at a normal temperature. His eyes stopped trying to fall from their sockets. He ran his tongue over his teeth. They felt familiar.

Panting, he unfurled himself from the fetal position and chanced a glance up. The white hot light was still there, surrounding him and--

"Rose!" The Doctor jumped to his feet, stumbling a little as he moved on familiar, but forgotten feet. Drawing to a halt in front of Rose, he felt his hearts seize up, though this time it had nothing to do with regenerating. She was nearly gone. "Oh, Rose," he whispered, feeling tears sting his eyes.

She didn't react, didn't even seem to see him.

He reached out, wrapping his arms around hers, holding them tightly to her sides in case she started fighting him. She didn't move. Didn't make a sound. Didn't blink. He wasn't even sure she could at this point. She was almost completely consumed by light now.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers, feeling the tickle of power teasing against his flesh. He drew it out of her, feeling it sear through him. The energy slithered around, touching newly healed flesh and slipping between bone and muscle. The warmth sought out his life force and tried to wrap itself around that spark of what made him the Doctor, but he kept it at bay, shoving it aside. All of his energy was concentrated on healing Rose.

She was his priority right now. He could not lose her. Not ever. She was the most precious thing in his life and he would be damned if he'd let her die. She was his!

The energy swirled around inside him like an angry bee trapped in a jar. Concentrating all his thoughts on healing Rose, he allowed the energy to flow as it wanted to, then laid her down on the floor, gently; so gently. She had suffered so much lately.

Turning to the TARDIS, he took a deep breath and exhaled out, expelling the vortex and the heart of the TARDIS back where they belonged. It nearly exhausted him but he was able to get it all out, he made sure of that before bending to pick up Rose.

She didn't stir as he lifted her and laid her carefully on the metal grating of the TARDIS, near one of the struts by the ramp.

* * *

Rose woke up with a hangover.

No, that wasn't right, she thought, raising a hand to her forehead. She didn't drink much these days, so it was more than likely just a concussion. Allowing one eye to open, she clenched the fingers of her other hand into the cold metal flooring beneath her. Ah. That was familiar. It could only be one place: the TARDIS. Settling both hands on the floor, she pushed herself into a vague sitting position, groaning as her head screamed at her for the minor shifting around. She felt like she'd spent a few nights out at the clubs with Shareen and forgot to sleep, eat, and bathe in-between.

Blinking at the lights searing her sore eyes, she swallowed thickly and looked for the Doctor.

He was across the room, working at the console. They were in flight, she distantly realized.

"What happened?" she asked, needing to swallow a few more times before she felt her mouth was moist enough that her tongue wouldn't stick to her teeth or the roof of her mouth.

"You don't remember?" he asked in surprise.

With her hand halfway to her head again, Rose froze, turning to stare at the man who'd spoken to her. Just those three words, but the voice! Oh, that voice. She'd missed it so much. "You're-- but how?" The last thing she remembered was... what? Singing?

The Doctor watched her carefully, and she felt like she should know why, but for the life of her she couldn't remember how she'd got on the floor of the TARDIS. Or how her Northern Doctor came to be standing in front of her. "Rose?" he prompted, stilling his hands and coming to kneel in front of her.

Against her will, her eyes filled with tears. "I killed you," she whispered, flinching when he reached out to touch her cheek.

"No, Rose." He blinked back hurt and she hated herself for putting it there.

She reached for his hand and held it to her face. He was warm, so warm. "I'm sorry." It seemed that's all she was doing these days, apologizing. "I don't-- how are you here?"

"That, Rose Tyler, is a very long and complicated story that'll have to wait until a better time, I'm afraid." He grinned suddenly--his powerful, manic grin--the one that always made her grin back. But this time, all she could manage was a slightly fearful smile.

"Why? What's happening? Are we--" _being attacked? About to die? Escaping something worse than usual?_ She shook her head and tried to think. To remember. "What the hell is going on?"

He chuckled, and there was actual amusement in his voice that was at odds with his words. "I'm changing again."

Rose shook her head and held his hand all the tighter. "No. Not again. Please stay. I don't want you to go. You're always leaving me."

His eyes filled with remorse, but he loosened his hand and pulled free, grimacing as the regeneration process started to grip him. "I know, Rose. And I'm sorry." He leaned forward, sliding a hand through her hair, drawing her toward him for a brief but pressing kiss. "Maybe this time will be different." He gave her a cryptic smile, but all Rose felt was cold inside.

"How can it be? You're in a body that died nearly a year ago." She scratched her neck and furrowed her brow, trying to remember, but came up blank. Frustration shot through her, making her curter than she'd intended. "What happened?" And then there was a flash: Daleks, their screeching voices drowning out the sound of everything going on around her. She was surrounded by them.

But she wasn't.

"There was singing," she mumbled, mostly to herself.

Slowly it all came back to her. But the memories stopped after she opened the TARDIS.

"What happened to the Daleks?" she asked, struggling to her feet. The Doctor rose with her, watching her, holding her elbow as if she was the one about to change. As if he expected her to break at any moment. "Doctor, what happened to the fleet?"

"I sang a song and the Daleks ran away." He grinned cheerfully, looking immensely proud of himself.

Rose shook her head and raised a hand to her temple. "I was at home. No, I wasn't. I was in the TARDIS, and... I can't remember anything else." It all blurred into a big ball of waxy, melting goo, slipping out of reach the more she reached for it. Something had happened, she was sure of that. Something significant. But what? She looked to him, watching him as he stood calmly in front of her, his body beginning to glow. "How are you--" she frowned and bit back all the questions she wanted answers for.

As he'd said, there was plenty enough time for that later. After he once again regenerated. Moving forward, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his chest, holding him tightly to her. "I love you, Doctor."

But then a thought occurred to her and she pulled her head back to look into his face.

"Are you going to look different this time? I mean, that's fine, 'cause I've liked all your bodies so far, and personalities," she added quickly. "Well, ginger-you was rude. And sometimes mean. But what if this time you're completely different than the pinstripes Doctor I got to know and love?" She grinned at him and kissed his jaw. "I really liked that body."

He chuckled, but it disappeared quickly with a wince of pain. "I don't know," he admitted once he could talk again. "Could be the same, could be all new. The process is dodgy enough as it is, but this time... I just don't know."

Rose nodded and held him tighter as the glow enveloped him. Just before he changed, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her lips.


	5. Top Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** La Petite Mort  
> **Character/Pairing in this chapter:** Ten/Rose  
> **Rating:** Adult, humor/angst/romance... did I mention the humor?  
> **Summary:** The Doctor never saw fit to warn Rose about things that could happen. And then they happened.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who... duh.  
> **Thanks:** to momdaegmorgan for the beta.  
> **A/N:** Moving into angstier territory.

_ **He thought at first she was just being stubborn.** _

Rose blinked up at the TARDIS ceiling. Blinked again, and wondered why she'd woken up.

Something was tickling her neck.

Ah, that'd be why then. She knew from experience exactly what it was, but she ignored it. Or, rather, him. The Doctor huffed and rolled onto his back, dropping his hand to the space between their bodies. Her neck and jaw were grateful for the reprieve because she was awfully ticklish there.

"Rose," he grumbled, moving closer to her and following her line of vision. His shoulder pressed against hers, his brown hair lightly brushing her forehead.

She shifted slightly away. He pretended not to notice.

Obviously not finding the ceiling interesting, he went back to looking at her. "I have charts."

She smothered a smile and tamped down the warmth that spread through her at his words. "I'm glad. Every man should have charts detailing the likelihood of not dying from sex. It could be a hobby. There could be a group and you could all get together and show each other your charts and detail just how not-likely you are to die."

He sighed and settled next to her. "Now you're just abusing sarcasm. Poor little sarcasm, all defenseless against mean ole Rose Tyler. It never stood a chance."

"I was asleep," she told him, yawning widely to prove her point.

"Why sleep when we could be doing other things?" He rolled over onto his side, facing her, head propped in his palm. "Other things that are much more fun and occupy two people at the same time. Sleeping only includes one. It's a solitary pursuit and, therefore, selfish." He ran a finger down her shoulder and arm to her hand, trailing back up to draw patterns on her forearm. "You're selfish," he teased, leaning close, letting his eyes flick to hers, judging her response to him.

She, however, kept her eyes firmly on the ceiling and didn't shiver once. Okay, there was a minute shiver, but she didn't let it happen twice. "I'm human," she countered, closing her eyes and relaxing into the warm, comfortable bed, ignoring the man beside her as much as she could, when really, she couldn't at all. "I happen to need sleep to survive, especially after Krap Elk 6, and really, who needs six of 'em? Seen one Krap Elk, you've seen 'em all."

"Kr'pelc," he corrected automatically, which only made her smile. His hand drifted up to her cheek and teased at the smile hovering on her lips. "It's completely safe, you know. The levels have stayed steady for two weeks now." He tossed his head a little from side to side, considering his words. "Relative time. They're at dead zero."

"And, yet, you can't tell me why." She opened her eyes and turned her head to the side to face him. "Or how you ended up in your other body--"

"My ninth."

She brushed that aside as unimportant for the moment. "Right. Whatever. Doctor," she sighed, looking into his dark brown eyes and feeling herself falling into his gaze. She wanted to fall further, so deep she'd never return.

Snapping her attention back to his-- jaw, yes, his jaw was a good place to look. And kiss, she knew. It was scratchy, especially now, after so many hours without a shave. She wanted to touch it, to press her lips to it, and trail along to his mouth and-- clearing her throat, she refocused her eyes on his sideburn. The one visible on his left cheekbone. It was a nice sideburn, and it didn't try to seduce her, so she kept her eyes there.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his lips curve up into a smirk "Yes, Rose?"

She kept her eyes firmly on his sideburn and ignored the smug git. "You refuse to tell me anything. So, how am I supposed to believe that suddenly everything is hunky dory?"

He groaned the groan of a man who'd been successfully dodging a question for weeks. But, then he settled on a distraction technique she knew all too well. "Hunky dory. Hunk. Y. Dor. Y. I'm having a little bit of word-love here, Rose. Or rather, words. Hunky dory. They're very... guttural and--"

"Changing the subject," she reprimanded, elbowing him lightly in the side.

He frowned and sucked his teeth with a sour look as she pulled the covers around her, snuggling into their relative warmth. "Why won't you trust me?"

Was he really that clueless? "Oh, I dunno," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "maybe because you flat-out lied--"

"I didn't lie," he denied, reiterating when she raised an eyebrow at him. "I _did not_ lie."

"All right. Flat-out omitted the truth. In this particular body, I might add. This body is a liar." She rolled her eyes when he went from looking offended to looking a wee bit proud. "That wasn't a compliment."

"Hmph," was his only answer. Then he added, "And I'm not lying. It's perfectly safe for us to have sex. Anytime we want to." He smiled seductively and leaned over, lowering his voice. "Anywhere we want to. Anyhow."

"And I know that how, Mr. Keeping Secrets? You could just be lying me-- omitting me into bed again," she finished loudly when he made to interrupt her again to proclaim his innocence. "And I happen to like this body and personality, thank you very much."

He scoffed and sat up, bracing himself against the headboard. "You liked all of my bodies, Ms. Radelion Nectar."

"Oi," she complained, sitting up as well. "Maybe if you'd told me it had... certain side effects on humans I wouldn't have had any. And you were rude in that body. Ruder. And mean. You called me an amoeba. Stupid ape wasn't nasty enough, so you went with amoeba." She ran her hands through her hair and occupied herself with looking anywhere but at the Doctor, because he was kind of sexy when he was offended. And angry. And happy. And when he got excited about the smallest little things. Also, when he-- yeah, she scolded herself. Not helping.

She was never, ever, ever again sleeping with the Doctor. No matter what he said.

And, boy did he say a lot. All the time. When they were on Yojun, he'd told her at the market that he intended to sleep with her again if it killed him. Of course, poor choice of words, but the people around them had found it rather shocking and there'd been a jail cell. That seemed to happen to them a lot.

The Doctor was watching her silently. "You don't trust me."

Rose swallowed and her eyes slid away from his.

 

* * *

 

_ **He learned there are different kinds of trust.** _

"Rose," the Doctor gasped, reaching his hand out to her. His fingers slipped off the rock face, forcing him to drop his hand to the beige and red-streaked cliffside to keep himself from falling. Small bits of rock fell and pattered the entire way to the ocean beneath them; over a hundred yards away. Sunlight beat down on him and his muscles were beginning to feel the strain of the climb. His coat swayed around his legs, its weight never having felt so heavy as it did now.

He shifted his feet, pushing them deeper into the rock, as much as he could anyway.

Rose's position on a ledge to his left was just as precarious, but even more so due to the large Huop bird trying to get at her. "I can't," she shouted across as the Huop--the size of a pterodactyl-- made another dive at her. She had scratches and cuts all over her from the climb up the cliff, and even a claw mark or two.

The Doctor caught his breath, ignoring the pain that went through him at her words. It still hurt to know that she didn't trust him. "We're nearly there," he shouted back. The distance was only four feet between them, but he suddenly felt as if it were a chasm of unending proportions. "I won't let you fall!"

"I know. But this stupid pterodactyl wannabe won't leave me alo-- ahh!" She ducked the Huop as it dove at her again, and then bent down to grab a rock. Hefting it in her hand a few times, she took a deep breath and, clinging to the side of the cliff, spun around and flattened her back against it. Her arm pulled back as far as it could with her body pushed up against the mass of rock behind her, and she threw the rock hard at the Huop. The fist-sized rock hit a wing and the now injured bird screeched, dipping in the air briefly.

Rose ducked and covered her ears at the sound.

The Doctor's hearts seized a little when Rose's feet scrabbled for purchase on the loose rocks and pebbles beneath her. "Be careful!"

She turned and grinned at him. "You're not getting rid of me that easily." She was breathless and sweaty from the climb, covered in dirt streaks and smudges and blood that'd been smeared across her face from numerous cuts, but the Doctor didn't think he'd ever seen her looking more beautiful. She stood and combed her hands through her hair a few times to get the sweaty strands off her forehead, then tucked them behind her ears. "Ready?"

He stared at her for a second or two before he realized what she meant. She was coming over. Grinning back, he nodded and readjusted his grip, preparing for her to grab his hand and join him on his precarious area of the cliff. Reaching out for her, he braced himself and jammed his feet in tighter.

Rose looked him in the eye, took a deep breath, glanced over her shoulder to see if the Huop was coming, then ran a few steps and jumped the distance between them. She soared over to him, completely weightless and ungrounded for what felt like forever in his panicked mind. But then, his hand caught hers and she clutched at him, wrapping her legs around his and twining her free arm around his shoulder.

"Climb up," he told her, shuddering under the extra weight. His hand had slipped when she jumped on him, and he was suddenly very aware of how high up they were. Tiny rocks beneath his clammy palms and fingers dug into flesh, scraping the skin raw. "Hurry."

His urging was all she needed to give her that extra incentive. She reached up above his head, and, grabbing a handhold shifted some of her weight to his right side. Carefully, she unwrapped her legs from around him and dug her foot into the rock just above his knees. He felt her starting to slip as she grabbed at the rock with her other hand and he reached out to steady her. His muscles protested the movement, which left him hanging by one arm and inadequate footholds. If he was feeling the strain, he knew she had to be near exhaustion. Taking a closer look at her, he noticed that her arms were shaking. Adrenaline was all that was sustaining her now.

She cautiously moved up a step, carefully placing her feet and testing the hold before moving up again. Step-by-step she climbed the last few yards to the top. The Doctor followed her, keeping one eye on Rose and one eye on the Huop, which seemed to have given up for the time being.

It was circling overhead, letting out an occasional screech, red leathery wings flapping to keep it up. The breeze it created helped cool them off, but it also caused dust to whirl up and sting their eyes and get in their mouths.

Rose reached the top and started to haul herself over. He heard pebbles falling and a cry escape her as she struggled to hold on to the tenuous grip she had on the grass and dirt above her. Her trainers slipped along the rough surface of the cliff face, seeking purchase.

He shouted her name and reached out to catch her, but, somehow, she managed to claw and scrape herself into a relatively safe position. His hand caught her bum and settled there, bracing her.

"Oi," she called back with a breathless laugh. "Any excuse to get in my pants."

He didn't share her amusement and kept his hand where it was, circling around to her waist as he moved higher. She held herself still for a few more moments--half on solid ground, half dangling over--before grabbing handfuls of grass and dirt and clawing her way all the way up.

The Doctor followed her up and crawled to her side, lying beside where she'd sprawled herself on her back on the grass.

"Just another day in the life," she chuckled happily, gasping out huge breaths with effort. Her arm rose up, straightening to point at the sky. "Look. A dinosaur." Then dropped heavily beside her, her hand hitting his side.

Another breathless laugh escaped her and she briefly closed her eyes. The Doctor wrapped his trembling arms around her and rolled her on top of him, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips.

She didn't protest.

"We're alive," she told him. Reassured him, really. He knew that's what she was doing, and he felt a flow of warm, lazy tenderness go through him that she was trying to comfort him after all the things she'd just gone through.

He kissed her again. Dropping his head back to the ground with a thunk, he laughed breathlessly and stared up at the Huop, which was flying above them in ever-tightening circles. "We're alive," he agreed, closing his eyes briefly as he caught his breath. Respiratory bypass should kick in at any moment, he thought absently.

After a minute, Rose sat back, straddling him, and the Doctor followed her, holding her on his lap with arms around her waist. He stared at her for a moment, seeing smears of dirt all over her face, a streak of blood on her left cheek and two more on her forehead. Sweat-slicked hair covered her temples and part of her forehead.

She brushed her hair back and made a face. Using the back of her hand, she tried to wipe her eyes, but only ended up making it worse.

Having no alternative whatsoever, the Doctor leaned forward and caught her lips with his own. A hard, hungry kiss reveling in the fact that they were alive.

This time she did protest, though it was a minor one. She pressed a hand lightly to his chest and pulled away. Her eyes watched him, darting from his lips to eyes and back again. "Doctor, I'm not--"

"I wouldn't have let you fall," he interrupted, tightening his arms around her waist; not wanting to hear her once again tell him that she didn't want him.

She nodded and smiled. "Never doubted it for a second."

Then why, he wanted to demand, did she not trust him? "I love you," he muttered against her lips. "You do know that, don't you?"

"I do," she insisted with a nod and a tender smile.

"But you don't trust me," he said, the words slipping out without permission. He immediately wished he could take them back, but he didn't. He stayed silent, waiting for her answer.

Rose shook her head, a confused smile lighting her eyes. "I do trust you. I trust you with my life, Doctor. I always have." She climbed to her feet, brushing her hands off absently as she scanned the sky for the Huop, squinting against the bright sun before turning back to him. "I just don't trust you with your own."

In the process of standing, the Doctor looked at her, startled. "What--" he began, but the Huop chose that moment to screech loudly and dive toward them, flapping its mighty wings and creating a breeze strong enough to ruffle their hair and clothes. He grabbed Rose's hand and dragged her along with him, running toward the tree line a couple dozen yards away.

 

* * *

 

_ **When life hands you lemons, suck on them** _

"Do you think I'm suicidal?" the Doctor asked.

Across the cell, Rose looked up from her seat on the floor. "What?" she asked in disbelief then finished with a scoffing, "No."

"Up on that cliff top just before the Huop decided I was a chewtoy--"

"Oh, your back," she said suddenly, sitting forward. "How is it? Is it healed?"

He blinked at her, knowing full well she was changing the subject. She rested her arms straight out on top of her knees, clasping her hands together as she watched him, waiting.

"Just about," he admitted, not wanting to dodge the question lest she think he didn't trust her with the answer. Well, all right, that was just a bit bitter sounding, even in his own mind. Still, he had precedent.

She sat forward, dropping her arms to her sides. "You said it'd heal within days. It's been nearly a week. Do you need me to clean it or something? Disinfect the area?"

The Doctor stared at her for a moment, touched by her concern, but unreasonably angry that she was acting as if he was a two-year-old who'd never been injured before. "You really do think I'm suicidal," he muttered in bemusement. She opened her mouth to deny it, but he waved her off. "The muscles and sinew mended themselves rather quickly. The skin itself is actually taking the longest; it's not easy to grow back a big chunk of flesh." He stood up, having had enough of the lumpy mattress of the room's single bed, and glanced up at the ceiling as he concentrated on his back. "Almost healed now." Moving his right shoulder, he joined her on the floor and added, "It's kinda itchy."

Rose rested her head on the dingy white wall behind them and turned to look at him. "Want me to scratch it?"

Mirroring Rose's position, he answered honestly. "Oh, yes, quite desperately."

She rolled her eyes and nudged his shoulder. "You're such a horndog. What happened? I mean, I was with you for months before we slept together, and before that, there was nothin'. Not even a blip on the radar."

He chuckled at her. "How would you know? Maybe I was just that good at hiding it." His hand found hers, and he twined their fingers together, resting their clasped hands on the floor between them.

"Please," she scoffed, leaning into him to rest her head on his shoulder. "All those hugs, I think I'd have felt something if you were this bad then."

Smiling over her head, he stared at the lumpy bed across from them. "No, you wouldn't have. I have a way of controlling my body's reactions to outward stimuli." Usually. Well, when it wasn't Rose. With Rose, he had no control whatsoever, and that should have scared him, but it didn't. In fact, it'd helped him realize he was in love with her. It was much harder to control himself when his feelings were involved.

Rose turned her head to look up at him, skeptical look firmly in place. "Really."

"Yep." His lips twisted up just the smallest amount when her eyes dropped to his mouth before resuming their resting place on his eyes. She definitely wasn't as unaffected as she pretended to be. He wasn't above using that against her. Not at all. Returning his gaze to the far wall, he licked his lips and pretended to think on what he was going to say. Letting his tongue rest at the top of his mouth, he snuck a glance down at Rose.

She wasn't even looking at him anymore. Oh, that was just not fair.

He'd ruined a perfectly good seduction technique on her.

This wasn't going as well as he'd expected. Maybe it was time to bust out and go home. Shifting Rose away from him briefly--he heard her nearly inaudible protest and fought off a smirk--he fished the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket. Holding it up triumphantly, he raised his eyebrows at her. "Time we weren't here."

She smacked him on the leg. "You've had that the whole time and you let us sit in here anyway?"

He shrugged. "Yeah." The lock wouldn't be a problem, he already knew that. When they'd been tossed in here, he'd inspected it and found it to be rather flimsy. The technology of this planet was hardly advanced. It wouldn't stop the sonic screwdriver. His Get Rose to Talk Slash Seduce Rose plan was obviously going to take more than them being tossed into a small space by themselves.

That was Rose for ya--difficult--and he wouldn't have her any other way.

She apparently wasn't pleased with him. She stood up and folded her arms over her chest. "You let us sit in a jail cell for," she paused and he looked over his shoulder to see her staring into the distance for a brief moment before her gaze returned to him, "nearly an hour and didn't think maybe using the sonic screwdriver to get us out would be something you should do?"

He dropped his eyes to her naked wrist then looked back at Rose.

"What?" she asked briskly. "I'm not allowed to know the time?" She rolled her eyes and sighed, moving over to him. Her hands went into her pockets as she approached, like she couldn't trust herself not to touch him.

He scoffed as he turned back to the lock and set the sonic screwdriver to the Break Flimsy Lock setting. More like she couldn't trust herself from slapping him.

The lock clicked and they were free. The metal door swung open a ways, creaking loudly. The Doctor caught one of the bars, stopping it before it could creak any more. Holding his arm out, he waited for her to precede him.

She slipped past with an annoyed look and headed to the left.

They made it through three corridors before she spoke again. "Any particular reason you were holding out with the sonic screwdriver?"

The Doctor shrugged, keeping his clever plan to himself. "Had to make sure we were alone. That no guards would come in during our great escape." He stopped abruptly, head cocked to the side, listening.

"Yeah," she said absently, dismissing his excuse with a wave of her hand. "Right."

The Doctor reached behind him to grab her hand. He was sure he could hear someone coming. The noise was faint, but growing louder with each breath they took.

Rose's hand clutched at his sleeve, her fingers running over the cloth. "Ya know, I just realized that your--"

This time he knew he'd heard something. Footsteps. His hand tightened around Rose's, dragging her back to him. She didn't resist or complain. Ducking down the closest corridor with paint peeling off the walls and stains that he didn't even want to guess at, he pressed Rose against the wall and held his hand over her mouth to stifle any outburst.

She blinked at him a few times, but stayed silent. The sound of boots grew louder. The Doctor pressed closer to Rose's warm body, sliding one leg between hers in order to minimize the space they were taking up as much as possible.

Her hands grabbed his arms and dragged him even closer.

He looked at her in surprise and saw her eyes widen on the corridor behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he was relieved to find it empty. He leaned closer, resting his mouth by her ear. "Someone's coming," he whispered, and they both shivered.

The mouth under his hand moved, hot, moist breath coating his palm as she mumbled something. He moved it cautiously. "I know," she whispered back. "I can hear, ya know."

He frowned slightly in her direction though most of his attention was on the boots coming closer. There were none of the expected shouts of 'escaped prisoners!' so he figured they hadn't been discovered absent yet. That was good. Though the people on Iut were rather pleasant and peaceful, he didn't think escaping would be shrugged off with a wave goodbye and a smile. Not after being arrested for licking one of their sacred flowers.

But, really, how else was he supposed to figure out the chemical compound of that smell without a lab? And then it turned out the flower wasn't even the source of the delightful smell anyway.

Rose's hands slid around his back, pulling him closer, and he looked at her, an eyebrow rising, wondering what she was doing. Of all the times to decide she wanted to touch him she chose now?

Her eyes were dilated, the pupils nearly obscuring the deep brown of her irises. Probably adrenaline, he thought absently, brushing aside the reasons he wanted her to be looking at him like that.

The chest beneath his lifted and lowered faster than usual. Narrowing his own eyes on her, he came to the conclusion that it was just from the run. Maybe a little fear too.

Despite this, his trousers were growing tighter.

He cleared his throat. "Much as I'd like to shag you against this wall--well, no, not this wall, it's disgusting--but a wall, any wall, really, any available surface, now isn't the time." He curled his lip up at the wall beside her and continued, lamenting, "Or the place."

Her eyes slid shut and he realized that he was whispering against her cheek, so close that all he needed to do was slide his lips a little to the left and he'd be kissing her.

The fingers still on his arms, tightened, and her breath hitched.

Oh.

But then the real world around them broke through his realization and he didn't have the time to kiss her-- no, devour her. That's what he wanted to do. Devour her mouth with his and shag her 'til she couldn't walk. For a week.

Footsteps were nearing now, closer and closer. The ringing on concrete echoed through the corridor they were in. Rose loosened her hands from his coat and shifted back against the wall. She straightened up so that she was no longer straddling his leg. And the Doctor felt an unreasonable anger at the situation they were in.

Hearing the guard closing in on their right, and knowing they could very easily be discovered, he grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him to the next corridor to the left.

From there, it was almost laughably easy to escape and run for the TARDIS.


	6. In A Bad Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** La Petite Mort  
> **Character/Pairing:** Ten/Rose  
> **Rating:** Adult, humor/angst/romance... did I mention the humor?  
> **Summary:** The Doctor never saw fit to warn Rose about things that could happen. And then they happened.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who... duh.  
> **Thanks:** to momdaegmorgan for the beta.  
> **A/N:** Still in the angstier territory.

As soon as the TARDIS door shut behind them, the Doctor spun Rose around and pressed her against the deceptively weak doors, capturing her mouth with his own. His lips moved over hers frantically, feeding his need to taste her and breathe her in. She gasped at the sudden onslaught, but didn't push him away like he'd feared.

In fact, she was actually drawing him closer.

Her scent drifted up to him, swirling around his head and enveloping him in a cocoon of scent memory; images of the first time he'd had her flew into his mind, quickly followed by the next, and the next. That little purring-mewling sound she made when he trailed his hand a certain way down her spine, the glazed look that graced her face as she adjusted to him deep inside of her.

His body, already a bit on the aroused side, ramped up even more. God, he wanted her.

He was hungry for her--starving--devouring her mouth with a kiss that took both their breaths away. He raked his fingers under her shirt and down her back, hoping to elicit that purring sound, but she only arched into him, pressing her warm chest against his, those firm round breasts driving him into a frenzy.

He felt like he could happily die right here, right now, so long as it was in Rose Tyler's arms.

Lifting his head for a brief moment, he stared at her, looked into her dazed eyes, then moved in again, nipping and sucking at her lips, drawing her tongue into his mouth as his hands slid up her sides.

Rose sighed into his mouth, relaxing, and pressing more fully against him. One of her legs lifted to wrap around him and draw him closer. He slipped into the empty space left behind, sliding his own leg between hers, lifting and lowering it until she was riding his thigh. She groaned and pulled away, gasping for breath, leaving her neck exposed to him.

His lips trailed down, leaving wet kisses behind. She tasted of strawberries and he wasn't sure why. Every time he slept with her, she tasted different. For this incarnation, it was strawberries.

"Doctor."

With a hint of something spicy. Just a wee bit of cinnamon. And he wanted to lap her up. Grinning, he scraped his teeth along her throat.

"Doctor."

He ignored the voice trying to garner his attention, and concentrated on Rose instead. She was even more intoxicating than he remembered. More... flavorful. Growling low in his throat, he slipped one hand up to her breast, while the other flattened against her back, holding her tight to him. Counterproductive yes, but he needed that contact.

"Doctor!"

Snapped out of his musings, his head shot up and he stared down at Rose. Her brow was furrowed, her mouth partially open, her breath coming quickly. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for being the person responsible for putting her in such a state.

"Stop," she stated succinctly, raising her eyebrows at him, making sure he got her point.

He snapped his mouth shut and reassessed the situation. Her hands weren't holding him to her anymore; they were holding him away. Her leg had dropped from around him.

She wasn't allowing this. Yet again.

Dropping his hands to his sides, he stepped back, ignoring his erection as much as possible. He wanted to adjust his trousers, but he refused to do so in front of Rose. It look like there were a lot of things that he, apparently, wasn't getting. "Rose, you--"

"I'm sorry, Doctor." She slipped past him and moved up the ramp, not turning to look back at him. "I can't."

Sighing, he ran his hands through his hair. "Right." Sniffing deeply, he waited until her footsteps faded away before turning back to the console room at large. "Right." Well, he'd just have to prove it to her, wouldn't he?

* * *

Rose took a sip of her warm tea and sat back a little, relaxing into the wooden seat with a sigh. Her mind just would not wind down. She craved sleep. Craved relief from her whirling thoughts. Craved the Doctor.

Stupid, she chided herself, that was neither here nor there.

Though it really was, because she couldn't stop herself from wanting him even if it meant he might die. It was what was keeping her awake at this very moment, and causing all those other sleepless nights throughout the past few months, she was sure. Thinking about being pressed against the TARDIS doors, as she had been just an hour before, chest to chest, her breasts tight against his hard flesh. His leg between hers.

She groaned a little in the back of her throat.

Still not helping!

It was getting increasingly hard to push her libido aside after a month back with her pinstriped Doctor. Not to mention trying to hide it from him and dodge his constant innuendoes and advances.

He was the same as before: beautiful, funny, sweet, a bit rude, sometimes blunt, and he had a taste for sex like never before.

Groaning, she shoved thoughts of him out of her mind and concentrated on--she glanced around the kitchen quickly--biscuits. Yes. Lovely chocolate biscuits with bits of nuts. Mm.

With her mind shut of the Doctor, she stood up to grab the packet of tasty treats, startled when the man she was trying so hard to ignore rushed into the room and dropped into the chair opposite hers. He tossed his coat over the back of the one next to him, and stared at her.

He was in just his shirtsleeves.

"There you are," he groused, grabbing her mug to down the lukewarm contents. "Been lookin' for you everywhere."

She tossed the packet on the table with a crackle of plastic, sending crumbs everywhere through the open end, then smacked the Doctor's shoulder. "That was mine."

He waved her words away. "More where that came from." And he had the gall to gesture to the stove where the teakettle sat.

"'M not your bloody cook, ya know," she grumbled, grabbing the kettle. "And I bet you only looked in my room." She turned back to the cupboard, grabbed another cup for him and filled both with hot water from the kettle. When he didn't answer, she glanced at him.

He was staring at her legs, which were visible from under the hem of the oversized t-shirt she'd put on for bed earlier that night. She hadn't bothered to change out of it, seeing as she wasn't really expecting a late night chat with the Doctor. She was supposed to be asleep in bed and he was supposed to be... tinkering with the TARDIS or something.

Making a mental note to always be fully clothed around him from now on, she nudged his shoulder.

His eyes jerked from her bare legs, to her face, then back again briefly before landing on his mug. "Right. Your room, yes. Rude of you not to be there."

She shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. What'd you want me for?" She sat down and drew the warm cup into her hands, looking over at him.

He looked up and grinned wolfishly. "Oh, everything, Rose." When she merely rolled her eyes, he sat up straighter, his shirt tightening over his chest and stomach.

Not that she noticed.

"I've got charts!" He grinned at her brightly.

Rose eyed him over the rim of her mug. "Oh, is there a meeting tonight? You and the boys gettin' together? I'm not making nibbles."

Ignoring her flippant words, he dug into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a poster-sized piece of paper that unfurled as it was freed, then laid it carefully on the table.

Rose eyed the paper. There was a table on it and inside that, tall boxes of varying degrees and colors. Underneath, numbers labeled what each tower's percentage was.

She set her mug down with a snort of laughter.

His finger wagged at her. "No laughing, missy!"

Rose leaned forward, studying the chart. "How long have you been workin' on this?" Tiredly rubbing her eyes with her fingers, she returned her gaze to him. "It's very pretty. I especially like the red tower, here," she said, pointing to the medium-sized block on one end.

"Ah, clever girl," he crowed, his smile widening as he clapped his hands together once. "That's an important one. See this one here?" He raised his eyes to her as he pointed to the blue block opposite the red one. When she nodded, he continued. "This is me. Blue." He looked inordinately pleased with himself for some reason.

Rose grabbed a biscuit from the packet and bit down on it. "Uh-huh."

"Blue for a boy," he explained, his smile dimming a little at having to explain it. His hand absently brushed her crumbs from the chart. "You're the red." Again that smile went up in wattage and he hummed happily in the back of his throat. "Bet ya can't guess why."

Taking another bite of the biscuit, she wiped crumbs from her mouth with her little finger, fighting a smile at how excited the Doctor was. "Red for a girl?"

He scratched his head briefly, staring down at the chart. "No. Is that how it goes? Red for a girl? I thought it was pink. Isn't pink still the traditional color for a girl? It's not green-- well, not yet anyway, that doesn't happen until the twenty-fifth century and it's all Mother Earth this and Mother Earth that."

He was dangerously close to going off on one his ramblings, so she nipped that in the bud. "Red then?"

His smile was back. His hand lifted from the chart to take hers, squeezing it briefly. "Rose red. That's you." That heart-stopping grin of his was firmly in place.

Rose fought the urge to sigh and sink into him. Really, he was just too pretty in this body. Maybe it would've been easier if he'd regenerated into one of his other bodies. Maybe the rude one. No, that hadn't worked out so well last time.

The Doctor circled around to stand beside her and turned the chart accordingly. "The red is you. The blue is me. And these little yellow ones here?" The fingers of his free hand pointed out tiny yellow boxes along the bottom of the table. They were barely there, just visible above the black line. "These are the levels between us. This one," he pointed to the one nearest his blue bar, "represents the Huon particles. This one in the middle is Artron energy. And this one," here he poked his finger repeatedly at the yellow one next to the red bar, "is that little something special that you have inside you, Rose Tyler. That little bit of energy that makes you and me a bad idea."

His eyes rose to hers, his hand squeezing her own.

"Or it did. Used to. Now it's safe." He swung their hands, looking hopefully at her and smiling. "No dying for me now."

Rose swallowed thickly, hating that he kept doing this to her. To them. She didn't _like_ turning him down! It hurt her every single time, and yet, he insisted on making his case, or coming on to her, or kissing her, and she was so tired of hurting him. "I'm sorry," she whispered, releasing his hand.

His hand held tight for a few more seconds as his face fell. Then his fingers dropped from hers and she was left feeling bereft. He thrust his hands through his hair, nearly glowering at her. "Rose, I don't-- what will it take for you to believe me?"

She bit the inside of her cheek and remained silent, a shake of her head the only answer she'd give him. But then anger shot through her because he kept putting her in this position and then acted like it was all her fault. "It's not just me, though, is it, Doctor?" Tired of this entire situation and frustrated because she couldn't do more than hold hands with the man she loved, she resorted to taking her anger out on him, though it wasn't really fair of her in the least. But she didn't think she cared about that at this point. "What about you? You're trying to turn this whole thing around on me, but you won't trust me enough to tell me what happened on Satellite Five! And yet, you want me to just automatically trust you because you've got some fancy charts?"

He glanced down at his charts dejectedly, and then began folding them back up.

"Charts that you could've made up," she felt compelled to add, flinching when his eyes, cold and hard, flashed toward her. "You've lied before."

He merely sent her a look, unrepentant, unremorseful.

She wanted to smack him, but instead occupied her hands by taking a gulp of her tea, which burned her lip, but she didn't care. It helped her anger build and she needed that, always needed that buffer between them. "Are you going to tell me what happened on Satellite 5? Why you _omitted_ the truth?"

"It doesn't matter," he said flatly.

"Right." She nodded once, then again. "'Course it doesn't. You suddenly returning to your old body, up out of the blue, that's just normal, is it? Your people do it all the time? That's why, when I asked if you could change back, you insisted you couldn't."

Why was he being an idiot about this? He wanted her to trust him, but he didn't trust her in return. And because of that, she wouldn't sleep with him again. Not until she had some concrete proof. Hard evidence.

After all, she was just Rose Tyler; her needs didn't matter one whit compared to the universe's needs. He was the Doctor, and the universe needed him.

He was the last Time Lord, the last of his people, and she was not about to shag him to death again. Not ever. No matter how much he tried to talk her into it. And if he couldn't be honest with her about Satellite 5, then how was she supposed to trust that he was being honest about the levels and his chances of dying?

He grabbed his coat from the chair and started out of the room, but sudden as a heartbeat, his hand shot out and grabbed hers, threading their fingers. His eyes stayed on her face, watching every emotion flit across it.

He looked a little dark. A little dangerous.

And she kind of liked that.

He cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow at her as his mouth turned up into a smirk. "You can pretend all you want, Rose."

She tugged her hand free and dropped her eyes to her mug. "I'm not pretending anything, Doctor. We both know how I feel. But I'm not killing you again."

"But that's what I'm saying! You won't." His stare stayed on her, his eyes growing more and more heated as she worried at her lip with her teeth. "Really, Rose, Satellite 5 doesn't matter. It's over and done with. What does matter is that we want each other so badly that--"

"No."

He sucked in a breath in frustration, his eyes still fully on her, and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm getting tired of taking matters into my own hands."

Truthfully, the admission didn't shock her anymore. But it did make her wish for her old Doctor back, the one that never would've discussed sex with her. Never would've told her he was masturbating-- because of her. Never would've--

God, that turned her on.

Groaning internally, she shook her head. As aroused as he got at times--and yeah, she knew about a lot of them, as he didn't exactly make a secret of it, and seemed to liked to go out of his way to point out the fact to her--he'd have to have a will of steel not to take care of things himself occasionally.

Or take an inordinate amount of cold showers.

She knew this first hand. She had done so as well.

She contemplated the mug in her hand. It was going to go cold while she stared at it instead of drinking it.

An eyebrow slowly lifted when she ducked her eyes from his and he leaned forward suddenly, into her personal space. Smiling wickedly, his eyes darkened with arousal, his voice lowering, turning to liquid honey, "Wanna swap details?"

She took a gulp of her tea, nearly burning her tongue in the process while trying not to choke on the liquid. It was better than speaking though. Because, she did want the details. Every single little bloody detail that he could whisper in her ear while he touched her. "Nope," she finally managed, popping the p like him.

Instead of the dejection she had expected, he merely plowed on ahead. "Care to share the details of your own... adventures?"

She snorted in amusement. That'd never happen. Not in a million years. Although... no. She merely smiled and shook her head.

And still he wasn't discouraged, just very turned on. "Wanna try an experiment?"

Images of him in her bed, touching her in ways she'd been dreaming about for months now, flew threw her mind. Thoughts of him talking her through one of her touching sessions in her bed late at night whispered to her.

She had to fight to keep her voice clear, but, after months of practice, she was beginning to get a hold on her emotions and feelings. And she was a fantastic liar as well.

Unfortunately, only to herself.

"No, Doctor. No sex, no shagging, no boffing, no experiments, no anything having to do with you and me being even the tiniest bit naked." She downed more of her tea and set the mug down with a thump.

He moved so suddenly, she was being pulled to her feet before she'd even registered the movement. He backed her into the wall, pressing close to her, letting her feel just how turned on he already was.

Constantly turned on, it seemed.

His lips hovered over hers, his breath tickling her cheek. "Oh, I don't think there needs to be a lot of nakedness. Just certain parts of you." He ran his hand down her hip, across her thigh and between her legs, pressing into the one place she wanted him to be right now. His eyes drinking in the reactions he was eliciting, he pressed his erection harder into her hip, making her gasp. "My cock, your--"

"No," she bit out, trying desperately to make him believe her. The truth was, her knees were turning to jelly, barely holding her up as she tried not to hear the words he'd just said into her ear. The Doctor didn't talk dirty. Didn't used to anyway. To hear that word come out of his mouth nearly did what all his other attempts to seduce her hadn't; dropped her defenses.

Like a shark smelling blood in the water, he wasn't bothered by her refusal; he just continued circling around her before going in for the kill. "I won't die. There'll be no pesky regeneration problem." He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered huskily, "Guaranteed."

She wanted to. God, she wanted to, and she hated him for constantly pushing her. "And if that 'pesky regeneration problem' happens again?"

He stared back at her evenly, but she could see a muscle ticking in his jaw. "It won't."

A frisson of doubt wormed through her; he seemed so sure of himself.

Well, she wasn't, and she wasn't about to take that chance again.

Studying his face, the way he watched her, the pupils of his eyes--nearly blacking out the brown completely--she wondered, not for the first time, if he'd somehow become addicted to sex.

Although, wouldn't that mean with anyone? All the Doctor seemed to want was her.

And that was the problem.

Looking him right in the eye, and hating herself for the pain this sent through her, she made herself push out the words. "Go shag someone else, get it out of your system."

His eyes turned tender for a moment, his hand coming up to softly brush her cheek with the back of his hand. He wasn't blind to how she felt, though he sometimes pretended to be. Nor was he uncaring about it. "Is that what you really want, Rose?"

And he certainly wasn't above using it against her.

She fought the urge to say no, to shout it to the universe. To tell him her heart would break into a thousand-thousand pieces if he went and shagged someone else, but this wasn't about her. It was the Doctor's life. Ignoring her trembling lip, she nodded. "Yes." The word was no louder than a whisper, but she was proud of herself for getting even that much out.

"I can't do that," he admitted softly. "Don't want anyone else." His lips trailed a wet path down her neck, flicking out at her pulse point. "No one but you."

Steeling herself against his words, her feelings, and everything that she'd ever wanted from the Doctor, she said the words she knew would turn him cold in an instant. The words that always made them fight. "You know, I've said it before. I'm sure if we pop in and see Reinette, she'd welcome you with open--"

His eyes turned to steel. His grip on her arm tightened painfully, bringing tears to her eyes. "Don't."

Knowing it was for the best, she forced the words from her lips, hating herself for doing it, but knowing it would work better than a cold shower. "No? Not Reinette? How about--"

His mouth descended on hers, forceful, hard, and punishing, drawing a gasp from her starved lungs. She shoved at him, pushing him away, trying desperately to stop him. She just couldn't do this again. She couldn't kill the him again.

"Stop it."

But he didn't. His hand slid down to her bare thigh, drawing her shirt up as it ascended, tracing a rough path to her breast. He cupped the unrestrained flesh, flicking the nipple with his fingers and she arched into the touch. Whimpered for more.

Wanted more, so much more. Wanted him to shag her hard and fast on the kitchen table. Take out all of their frustrations on each other and the furniture around them.

Her hands gripped his shirt, yanking him closer and then pushing him away. She couldn't decide which she wanted more.

To shag, or not to shag?

He dragged his mouth from hers and stood looking down at her. "I think we need something to occupy that mouth of yours."

She groaned helplessly. Her hands, having decided what they wanted to do, lowered to his trousers and rubbed against his erection.

God, he was so hard. Her inner muscles clenched in response.

All she could think about was him inside her, molding himself to her, breathing in his scent, touching his skin, feeling his hearts against her chest and his cock inside of her, filling her up.

And then reality crashed in on her once again and she dropped her arms to her sides.

"No," she ground out, pushing gasping breaths out, pushing past the pain of no longer touching him, pushing past the hurt in his eyes as he flew backward, seemingly of his own volition, and knocked against the round table.

He was watching her with dark eyes, darker than usual, and there was anger there. This time, she felt she might have pushed him too far.

Hurrying from the room, she dodged his grasping hand and ran to her bedroom.

* * *

The Doctor stared at the wall he'd just had Rose pressed against. He was so hard that his every movement caused the material of his pants to rub painfully against his erection. He was nearly gasping for breath at this point, unable to think of anything except Rose. Being inside her warm body, thrusting into her, her tight muscles clenching around him.

With a groan, he reached down to adjust his trousers, but jerked his hand away when the fabric's movement made his hips buck.

He'd never been this aroused in all his lives.

Shoving away from the table, he strode over to the wall, staring at it, still smelling her there, smelling them. He could smell his own arousal. Feel it. He ached because of it. Hers wasn't nearly as strong, but it was there, just on the edges of his own. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. There she was.

Strawberry and cinnamon and Rose-scented air.

Shifting his trousers, he hissed in a breath and undid the button and zip quickly, releasing his throbbing cock. Taking himself in hand, he leaned back against the wall and breathed in Rose. He could feel the warmth still lingering on the wall behind him, from where her shoulders had pressed against it. Lower down, where her hips had been, the wall was cooler because they'd been arched away, pressing into him.

His hand slid down his cock; that first touch of his fingers wrapping around himself nearly taking his breath away. His stomach muscles tightened at the sensation, his legs felt weak and trembly. But good. Oh, so good. He could imagine Rose's fingers doing this instead, doing this for him. He didn't bother with long, slow strokes. His hand moved quickly, rapidly, her image, her smell-- _her_, fueling the fire burning within him. His mind strove to fill in those physical blanks, but as much as he'd been denied Rose's touch lately, he found he was impatient for release.

He didn't want to prolong this or draw it out; he wanted to come now, hard and fast. Instead of fighting off the swiftly mounting pleasure, he thrust his hand along his length with quick twisting movements, struggling to keep his hips still, to not buck them forward and lose his rhythm.

His fingers tightened and loosened, circling around to flatten against the tip, then slid back down again and squeezed the base, fingers playing along his balls, applying a small amount of pressure before releasing them and stroking himself once more.

Fluid leaked from the tip, and his movements spread it down his length. Behind his eyelids, he saw Rose, kneeling before him, her hand on him instead of his own. Her eyes, watching his face, as he strained for release. Tongue peeking out from between her teeth.

His muscles tensed and his back arched away from the wall. No matter how hard he tried to keep a rein on his hips, they began to thrust forward as the sensations built. Higher and higher they climbed, completion hovering just out of reach.

Low, rough grunts slipped past his lips as he jerked his hand up and down his shaft, squeezing and twisting on each downward stroke. Body tightening, he thrust into his hand. Faster. Faster, until--

"Rose..." he hissed.

Face contorting in pleasure, he came hard, almost painfully, hips jerking wildly, forcing his cock deeper into his fist again and again.

Shuddering waves of pleasure washed over him as his shaft spasmed in his hand, spilling his seed.

Panting, he rested against the wall, the warmth of it now his alone. His chest rose and fell deeply as his hand continued to lazily stroke his cock, eyes opening with an exhausted blink.

The immediate burn of arousal dissipated, fading into annoyance at himself.

Tucking his softening cock back into his pants and doing up his trousers, he looked down at the mess on the floor with a baleful eye.

This was what Rose had reduced him to: masturbating in the kitchen.

But it was just as much his fault as hers. Just because she wouldn't allow things to go any further didn't mean that he had to have a wank at the slightest provocation. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he dug them hard into his eyes. Something wet touched his cheek and he pulled his hand away, staring at it. There was a little bit of his seed near the thumb, and another spot by his pinkie. Unable to stop his curiosity, he raised his hand to his mouth.

Darting his tongue out, he tasted it, staring curiously at his hand as he considered the flavor. "Mmm, potassium. Although," he screwed his face up a little, "bananas have more. And they taste better." He was sure he caught a hint of zinc and possibly some citric acid. Definitely fructose, and something... oh, what was that? "Ah! Phosphorylcholine: good for contact lenses, keeps them moist." Licking more from his skin, he swirled his tongue around his mouth. "Spermine. Of course. Good growth factor, that."

All in all, it was salty. A teeny tiny bit sweet. Sort of... bitter. Not bad, he thought. Still, he preferred bananas.

Settling his tongue to his thumb again, he lowered his lips as well and sucked at the spot. Dragging his tongue to the other side of his hand, he sucked that area as well, sparing another look at the floor.

With a sigh, he got a towel from a drawer and cleaned up the mess there, then wiped off his trousers. Tossing the towel into a bin by the door, he surveyed the room.

It looked completely normal. Not like he'd just masturbated in here.


	7. Helter Skelter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** La Petite Mort  
> **Character/Pairing:** Ten/Rose  
> **Rating:** Adult, humor/angst/romance... did I mention the humor?  
> **Summary:** The Doctor never saw fit to warn Rose about things that could happen. And then they happened.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who... duh.  
> **Thanks:** to momdaegmorgan for the beta.  
> **A/N:** This chapter is dark. Somewhere along the way, the crack and humor fell by the wayside.

The Doctor collapsed back on his bed, chest rising and falling heavily, forcing the ends of his shirt to fall to either side. Staring up at the ceiling, and allowing himself to be soothed by the glowing green lights gliding along the surface, he forced himself to calm his breathing.

Rise. Fall. Up.... down. Slower and slower until it was nearing normal.

A tired groan escaped him, and his eyes slid shut. Legs dangling over the edge of the bed, trousers open wide, he had no energy to tuck himself back in.

His skin tightened as the open air hit him and began the task of drying the semen on his stomach.

His eyes blearily opened, as a single drop of perspiration slid down his temple into his hair. This was ridiculous. Masturbating twice in... just over an hour? What on Earth was wrong with him? Once in the kitchen after being denied Rose's touch, yes, understandable. Sort of. But twice? He'd come in here to take a shower, not to do the exact same thing that'd caused him to need one in the first place!

One simple thought about Rose was enough to drive him to distraction it seemed. Not even a complete thought about her. Well, not an erotic one. Okay, possibly it was slightly erotic. All right, imagining taking Rose from behind while she was splayed over the console was perhaps just the wee bittiest bit erotic.

Just a tad.

But, really, did it need to lead to this?

Pushing himself up on his elbows, he looked down the length of his body. Trousers wide open, semen drying on his stomach, softened cock nestled on the zip of his trousers.

"Pathetic."

Dropping his arms to the bed, he closed his eyes again and yawned. It was no wonder he was tired after two masturbatory sessions. Allowing himself to drift off, he kept a mental eye on the time, listened for signs of Rose approaching, and failed to zip himself back up.

When he woke up thirty-nine minutes later, he was covered in now-dried semen and feeling a bit cranky. Rose was fine and dandy, he imagined. Sleeping in her bed, resting comfortably while he... _he_ was forced to take drastic measures to solve his lack-of-a-love-life problem. He did it often enough, he wasn't going to lie about that, but never this quickly.

Never twice in one day.

Pushing himself onto his elbows again, he felt the skin of his stomach stretch and pull. Making a face at the sight and the sensation, he sat up fully.

His trousers, tightened over his crotch, caught on his vulnerable flesh and pinched the sensitive skin for a brief moment. He hopped to his feet and adjusted himself with a hiss of relief.

Fingers curling under the knot of his tie, he loosened it enough to pull it over his head and tossed it onto the bed. His shirt went next. Every article of clothing fell to the floor with each step he took to the bathroom.

The shower was bright after the muted illumination of his bedroom. White and coral mixed with green lighting made the room look like a lab rather than a bathroom, but he liked it. Stepping into the tub, he turned on the water and let it drench him. His fingers worked at the sticky substance on his stomach while the water sluiced over him.

The trick would be to not think about Rose. Certainly, even with his superior physiology, the possibility of him becoming aroused again was ridiculous.

Nonetheless, he kept his thoughts firmly off of Rose. Specifically, naked Rose.

Shampoo, conditioner, soap... lather, rinse, no naked-Rose thoughts. Not a single one.

Well, except for that one of her in the shower with him. Other than that, there was nothing. He didn't even wonder what she'd look like naked and wet as he slammed into her--

God. He really had to stop!

Stretching his neck muscles, he poured more shampoo into his hair, rinsed it out, conditioned it, rinsed it, did not think about Rose sucking him off, soaped up his body and skimmed a hand down to his cock as the soap suds slipped down his skin, and into the drain.

Noticing where his hand was, and that he was actually--actually!--becoming aroused again, he jerked it free and stood under the water a bit longer, trying to relax under the flow.

He imagined he was standing on X'pol Prime, like a sponge too-long dried, soaking up the nutrients that fell in a shower of rain every afternoon.

His hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it back with both hands.

Perhaps he was on Limn; a gorgeous rock planet that had geysers that spurted thousands of feet into the air at regular intervals that put Yellowstone to shame, and in so many different colors that a rainbow looked pale in comparison.

His hand scrubbed at the skin of his stomach.

There was the moon Urnebi that circled around K'rr that he quite liked to visit every few decades; it had... it had--

Tightening his hand around his balls, he slammed his other hand against the wall in front of him. Coral-colored walls hummed back at him, warm under his fingers.

No. No! He was not doing this again. Twice in one day was plenty enough. Twice in one hour was obsessive. Three times in two hours was worrisome.

Loosening the hand lightly stroking the underside of his shaft, he pushed away from the wall.

Okay, he could do this. Stand up straight. Oh, he already was. Good on him. Ignore the heat simmering in his veins. Easier said than done, but not impossible. Dropping both hands by his sides, he breathed in deeply and counted to ten in English, Gallifreyan, Russian, German, French, Chinese, Italian... and, by the time he got to Portuguese, his breathing was calmer, his muscles more relaxed.

And his hand was resting on his thigh.

Cursing a blue streak, he turned the hot water down and upped the cold, tossing a dirty look at the coral walls for turning his curses into Japanese. The cold water felt good on his overheated skin. It ran down his hair--drawing the last of the warmth from the strands--over his shoulders and back to his bum, slid over his chest and belly to his erection and beyond.

It didn't help cool his ardor any though, so he turned the cold up higher and lowered the hot some more.

Cool droplets rained down on him as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and tried to occupy his mind with unsexy thoughts.

Jackie Tyler-pears-cats-guns-toe lint!

His body didn't relent though. He was still hard, and getting harder by the moment. Painfully so. This was definitely not normal. Not normal at all.

Okay, new plan. Quick wank in the shower, check on Rose to make sure-- oh. Oh! His cock jerked at the thought of Rose and, suddenly, his hand was moving between his legs. The other one flattened against the shower wall again, supporting him. Rapid jerks, twisting circles, thumb the tip-- thoughts of Rose.

His whole body shuddered at the thought of her. Beautiful smile. Sweet scent. Teasing laugh. A hand to hold.

He squeezed his erection clumsily, stroking faster. Faster. Slower. No, no, faster. His hand moved with no rhythm, just doing what felt good. The water pouring over him wasn't helping any, so he stepped out of the spray and leaned his head against the wall. His hand lingered on his balls, grasping the pliant skin with careful fingers.

Pleasure shot through his cock when his knuckles brushed against the side of it. His legs quivered at the sensation, his back arching into the spray of cold water. It wasn't going to be long this time. He could feel it building already--coming on quicker than usual--tearing through him as he imagined Rose there with him; thought of her with him forever. Her voice as she laughed, that rich giggle he adored.

He bared his teeth as he strained for completion.

Heat swamped him, burning a trail through his veins. He was grunting now, sounding primal and animalistic to his own ears. Thrusting his curled hand back and forth on his shaft, he concentrated on Rose. Her hair, her eyes, how much he loved her.

Tingling warmth swept through his legs and toes before settling into a burning sensation that made him squeeze hard and change the angle of his hand. The fingers of his other hand left the wall and drifted down to his balls again, pressing and releasing the sac as his hips began to jerk forward. Running his thumb along the tip--smearing pre-cum over the rest of his shaft--he shoved his hand back down.

Twisting his hand, he flattened it against the tip, then drew it down once again and repeated the motion. Releasing all but his thumb and forefinger, he quickly squeezed his fingers again.

He felt his balls begin to tighten and draw up. With a thick moan of pleasure that echoed in the small room, he propelled his hips forward one last time.

For one small moment, he was frozen in that position as pleasure crashed through him. Taut muscles held and then slowly, so very slowly, began to loosen.

His hips bucked again and again, and he felt every tiny spasm in his cock as he came.

* * *

The Doctor was not a stupid man. He knew when things were amiss. Well, usually. Sometimes he missed things, things that were right in front of his face. Or behind his back.

But this time, he knew. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark.

He left the shower behind, fully clean once more and grabbed a towel from the rack beside the door. Wiping absently at the beads of water that ran down his chest, he wondered if it was something in the TARDIS, or something in him? Clearing the fogged mirror, he stared at his reflection as he combed his hair.

He didn't look any different. But, then again, that didn't mean anything. Maybe he looked a little tired, he thought, leaning toward the mirror to examine the slightly darker skin beneath his eyes.

Well, a jail stay, a jail escape, two aborted attempts to seduce Rose, and three wanking sessions later... he thought he looked rather good.

Swiping at a stray drop of water on his neck, he considered that it might be something _in_ the TARDIS. And if that were the case, then Rose--

Eyes widening in alarm, he dropped the towel to the counter and rushed into his room, pulling on a fresh suit as quickly as he could. Still in the midst of buttoning his shirt, he left his room, barefoot, and minus a tie. The metal grating wasn't the most comfortable on his feet, but he made good time as he turned two corners and went down three hallways wondering why in the universe Rose had moved her room so far from his after satellite 5.

His feet slid just a tiny bit, enough to burn the soles against the metal, as he came to a stop in front of her door.

There were no noises from inside. As he reached out to open the door, he wondered if he'd find her in there on her bed, touching herself.

His hand grasped the door handle with more force than necessary expecting the familiar rush of arousal to swamp his senses, but nothing happened. He was, so far, still in control of himself.

He twisted the handle.

But then he paused. If she was in there masturbating, then she really wasn't going to be happy with him for walking in on her, despite his good intentions.

He shrugged. It couldn't be helped.

But he didn't move. Instead, he wondered why, if she was doing... things to herself in there--things he'd like to be doing to her, or just with her, really, though, that was neither here nor there--but, if she was doing... that, then was she affected like him? If there was an infection.

And for that matter, if she was, then why hadn't she said anything to him? Why hadn't she come to him for help?

Why hadn't she come to him for help in relieving the need?

He snorted and ran his hands through his damp hair. She didn't want anything to do with him now. Well, that wasn't particularly true. She loved him, and wanted to travel with him, and wanted _him_, she just didn't trust him enough to sleep with him.

Bit of a problem in their relationship. Just a small snag.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the handle and pushed the door open. Not a peep. Sticking his head in, he glanced to the right, taking in the bed and the person in it. She was asleep, lying on her stomach, one hand on the pillow beside her, the other under the covers. The darkened room didn't allow for too much detail, but he was pretty sure she didn't look desperate and exhausted from masturbating repeatedly.

Relieved, he simply watched her breathe for a few seconds. It still made his right heart skip a beat to know that this woman, this simple human--no, nothing about Rose was simple--this brilliant woman, cared for him. Loved him.

And wouldn't sleep with him ever again. Yeah, tiny snag.

Letting out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, he pulled the door shut and headed back to his room. Whatever it was that was affecting him wasn't affecting Rose. So, maybe it was something in the TARDIS, but, for some reason, hadn't turned Rose into a one-woman sex show.

Back in his room, he put on socks and Chucks and then set about righting the buttons on his shirt.

Odd that seeing Rose hadn't sent him into another spiral of self-touching.

Tossing on his suit jacket and foregoing the tie, he headed to the console room. Answers lay there, he was sure. As soon as he reached the controls, he pulled out his glasses and grabbed the monitor, drawing it toward him. Tapping in a few commands, he began a scan for alien life, just in case anything got by the TARDIS' sensors and filters.

It was rather unlikely, but not impossible.

* * *

Twenty-three minutes later, he was no closer to an explanation than before. There were no stowaway aliens, no viruses, no bugs that could've got into his system. Everything was normal on this end.

Which meant he'd picked something up somewhere recently. Or something had infected him. Otherwise... he was just one extremely horny Time Lord, and the Doctor was sure-- well, pretty sure--eighty percent sure? Maybe seventy-six, no, seventy-two, wait. Seventy-four percent sure--that that wasn't the case.

It _would_ explain why the TARDIS hadn't picked up on whatever it was though.

Only one way to find out. Shoving the monitor away from him, he pocketed his specs and headed toward the medical bay.

Halfway there, he felt it start again. Intense arousal washed through him and he became almost instantly hard. Okay, this wasn't just him being a horndog, he thought, bracing himself against the wall as it became almost too painful to walk.

It had hit so quickly this time. There'd been no slow burning, no build up. Panting heavily, he stared down the hallway, gauging the distance, wondering if he could make it to the lab.

He took a step, feeling the fabric of his pants rub against him uncomfortably. Another step and he had to stop. It hurt too much to move. Groaning in annoyance and frustration, he undid his zip.

* * *

Fastening his trousers, the Doctor let a sigh slip out. Shrugging out of his suit jacket, he tossed it to the floor and cleaned up what little mess there was. He didn't have anything left in him anymore. And his skin was beginning to feel rubbed raw. He was spent. Empty. Knackered. Ready to have a lie down now, thank you very much.

And the thought of having sex again, even if Rose were to throw herself at his feet right at this very moment, wasn't in the least bit appealing.

Calculating in his head the times between each masturbatory session, he grabbed his suit jacket and headed toward the lab. There was approximately an hour between the first time in the kitchen and the second on his bed. It had built up more slowly those times, but was still just as strong once he was completely aroused. Third time, in the shower, nearly forty-five minutes had passed. Half an hour between then and now. Whatever was affecting him, it was counting down in an incremental fashion.  
Hurrying to the lab, he figured he had almost thirteen minutes to run tests before it struck again.

Throwing his suit jacket to the floor, the Doctor glared at it. He'd been off by four minutes. Four stupid, measly little minutes. He'd planned the tests right down to the last two minutes, keeping those free in preparation of it coming over him then, but it snuck up on him after only eleven minutes.

He'd been working on a particularly delicate sample at the time and now it was shattered on the surface before him.

Kicking his jacket, he watched, uncaring, as it smacked into the base of the lab desk. He ran his hands through his hair, avoiding refastening his trousers. His sensitive skin was definitely beginning to feel the affects of so much abuse. However, he couldn't walk around with his bits hanging out. He knew there was an ointment or something around this med lab that would soothe him, but he couldn't remember where or what it was.

He didn't have time for this! He needed results, not more problems.

Shoving himself back into his pants, he strode over to the cupboard above the sink and searched through it, pushing bottles and tubes aside in his haste. A phial fell and shattered in the sink, sending up a noxious purple gas. Waving the fumes away, he shoved his arm deep into the cupboard and came out with a small, amber-colored bottle that resembled a perfume spritzer. Inside was a liquid ointment that should soothe his raw skin.

Carefully lowering his pants, he misted his penis and the surrounding area. There was an immediate cessation of the tender ache that'd begun sometime after his hallway wank. Using just his fingertips, he gently rubbed it in, feeling the oily liquid begin to spread cool relief, soothing the red skin and calming the burning ache.

He jerked his head around when a high-pitched beeping noise sounded from the monitor on the lab desk. The results he'd been waiting for! Tucking himself back in, he did up his trousers and then slid the bottle into his pocket.

He didn't know how long he had this time, but he figured it was only going to be another minute or two. Rushing to the monitor, he glanced at it quickly, eyes taking in everything as fast as it scrolled by on the screen. The flower! That bloody flower he'd licked back on Iut.

Would that teach him not to lick things anymore? He shrugged... probably not.

Ah, he thought, taking in the history of Iut. That explained why he was in the condition he was currently in and why the flower had been relegated to a sacred relic. They should put that in the brochure.

Eyes still flicking over the screen, he noted that there was an antidote, or... no, that he wouldn't do. Even though he suspected-- well, that was neither here nor there at the moment. Antidote it was then. He was pretty sure he had most of the stuff he needed, here on the TARDIS.

Not a Tandis Root though. They didn't keep well, and there really wasn't much call for them. Still, he could get one on Nmilport Three. He'd have to land between the two ice ages and sometime before the-- oh.

There was a familiar rush of blood to his cock. Lowering his pants, grateful for the ointment that'd nearly numbed the area, he continued to calculate the time in his head as he stroked himself.

He'd have to land sometime before the natives colonized the south parts of the giant continent and began to spread out and populate the planet. Before they were nearly killed off by the second freeze.

A wave of dizziness struck him and he reeled sideways. Reaching out with both hands, he grabbed the stool nearest him, but his weight tipped it over, and he stumbled. Shaking his head to clear it, he leaned against the lab desk and caught his breath. Low blood flow. His body was being starved of blood, and that was a problem. He needed to work faster or it was only going to get worse.

Returning to the business at hand, he got himself off as quickly as possible and headed off to the control room. Halfway out the door, he realized he would have to come back here to make the antidote, and that was after he'd gone outside to get the root. Maybe he should wake Rose, ask for her help.

No, that wasn't something he could do after the way he'd been treating her lately. She needed space from him and he wasn't going to force this on her.

It hit again two hallways from the med lab. It didn't take much for him to get off anymore. A few, quick strokes, a stray thought of Rose. But each time he came it was just as strong as the last time, which was just as strong as the first time. His body didn't have any semen anymore, but that didn't seem to matter.

Another hallway and he started to shiver.

Exhaustion weighed on him, forcing him to lean against the wall for support. Shock was starting, he knew, but he also knew that he'd have to push past it. His bypass system was the only thing keeping his blood flow going, but it couldn't halt the pain throbbing behind his eyes, or the chills that were starting to take him.

Blood flow was altered again, and he stopped to take care of himself. His hands yanked at the ends of his brown dress shirt, sending all the buttons flying. He spread the shirt ends aside to get to his cock. It was starting to hurt again, burning and aching with each new stroke.

Blinking to clear his eyes, he stared down the distance to the control room. Two more hallways and the distance from the door to the controls. Then around the console. Dreading the trip, he pulled his pants over himself and pushed away from the wall.

It took two more stops before he made it to the control room and stumbled to the console. His ship hummed and throbbed, the light soothing his aching eyes. Warmth poured into the room as he twisted the thermal dial up, blasting himself with the air. His clammy skin dried instantly, but the tingling in his fingers and toes began to worry him. And there was pain in his chest now, which meant his bypass system was starting to fail him.

"Nearly there," he told himself, speaking the words aloud to wake himself up. They sounded eerie in the darkened room, echoing this way and that. As he started the dematerialization sequence, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye.

Spinning around, he clutched at the console with frozen fingers. Dizziness swept through him again as he searched the surrounding area. When had the lights dimmed? He couldn't remember. Something was in here with him though. He could feel it. It was watching him. Stalking him.

Backing around the console, keeping his eyes on the corner by the doorway, he darted his eyes to the buttons that needed pushing and the dials that needed turned.

"Remeon," he mumbled, staring at the switch between his fingers. "Going to Remeon." But, why? And what was this switch for? Gyro settings. Or thermal inducers. Shaking his head, he took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. Remeon... okay. Antidote. Right. Thermal inducers, need those on.

He flipped the switch.

The TARDIS jerked hard to the left, sending him to the floor. He crashed onto the metal grating, landing on his right side, feeling the impact all up and down his body. And it was time again. Sitting up as well as he could, he quickly took care of it and stared at the console. It was a long way up and over. He was near the captain's chair, and he could barely kneel to get himself off. His arms felt like lead-filled balloons, his body bruised and battered.

But he seemed to be thinking more clearly for the moment. There was nothing in here, and the lights were still at normal. Anxiety was pouring through him, but he felt better. Warmer. In fact, he was sweating. After he came, he dropped his arms to his sides and just stayed there, breathing, focusing on pushing air in and out of his lungs. The heat in the room was beginning to get to him though, so he sloppily rolled up the cuffs of his shirt and pushed himself to a standing position.

The TARDIS pitched to the right and sent him reeling into the controls. His hands knocked into everything within reach, which just sent the TARDIS into an even more violent roll. Usually, he enjoyed this part of their trips, but not this time. Not now!

He only managed to right two switches before it was on him again. His breath came faster, though it wasn't due to arousal anymore. His lungs were starting to fail. And the fog was rolling back in. Dropping to his knees on the floor, feeling sharp pain as he landed, he stroked himself.

"Doctor, do you-- oh, my god!"

The Doctor came at the sound of her voice, back arching, breath hissing. He closed his eyes as pain burned through him, along with humiliation that Rose had found him like this.

Her voice, still on the far side of the room, drifted to him, the amusement in it clear enough. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. I'll just, um... go." Her feet barely made any sound on the metal grating and he realized she must be barefoot or in socks.

And she was leaving. Leaving him behind to deal with this problem on his own.

He tried to move, to stand up, to get control of his legs, but he couldn't find the energy. There was pain in his chest, just above his right heart, a sharp pain that shot through his arm. He was dying. Dying while Rose walked out the door and left him alone because he was too ashamed to ask for her help.

Blood wasn't getting to either of his hearts fast enough and his lungs were barely supplying him with enough oxygen. His brain would begin to shut down soon, as well as his kidneys. Heart failure was inevitable.

He had approximately thirty-four minutes to get the root, make the antidote, and take the cure before he was too far-gone to recover. And then regeneration.

He opened his mouth, dry, sore lips rebelling at the act, and whispered her name. "Rose." His voice was so low and so cracked that even he didn't hear his desperate plea above the hum of the TARDIS.

Rose couldn't have heard him from where she was and he didn't have enough strength to call out again.


	8. Trust Me On This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** La Petite Mort  
> **Character/Pairing:** Ten/Rose  
> **Rating:** Adult, humor/angst/romance... did I mention the humor?  
> **Summary:** The Doctor never saw fit to warn Rose about things that could happen. And then they happened.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who... duh.  
> **Thanks:** to momdaegmorgan for the beta.  
> **A/N:** This chapter is a bit dark as well.

Rose halted. The time rotor was still moving, the engines humming, but under that, she thought she heard the Doctor call to her, his voice strained and cracked.

Not like that of a man in the midst of solitary bliss.

This was tired and pained. Turning to face him, half-shielding her eyes from what she might see, she darted her gaze over the console room. It looked the same as always. Green light glowed in the center of the room, sending an eerie luminescence over the gold and coral and metals mixed with plastic buttons and knobs and dials. The metal flooring beneath her slippered feet was dark.

The Doctor was on the far side of the room, between the captain's chair and the console, kneeling as if in supplication. His head was bowed to his chest and his back was rounded, shoulders slumped forward. As she watched, a breath left him and then was slowly drawn back in.

Frowning, she moved silently toward him, stopping a few feet away.

The ends of his brown button-up shirt were spread out on either side of him, the arms rolled up in wide, uneven folds of fabric to his elbows. She could just see the side of his face; it was pale and there was stubble on his jaw and just the beginnings of a shadow of a beard. His eyes were closed.

But as she neared, he jerked upright and drew in a deep breath, panting shallowly. His eyes snapped open and his head turned, facing her.

Rose stopped, unable to control her gasp of surprise. The hand nearest the console grabbed at the edge, her fingers scrabbling for purchase.

His eyes were darkened, the irises almost completely obscured by the black of his pupils. The smell of sex surrounded him, stirring something in her in response that she quickly tamped down. Inside his eyes, deep in them, she could see the pain he was in, and now was not the time for her to become aroused just because he smelt and looked and was... all sex.

"Doctor, what... is it?" she asked, her voice barely emerging from between her lips. He looked nearly unconscious, but as she drew a little nearer, his hands moved to his lap.

Though she'd thought she'd caught him masturbating in here, it didn't really strike her until just now that his trousers were actually open. He was hard, and his hands were hovering over his erection, like he didn't want to touch himself. And she could see why. His skin was red and raw looking.

There were stains on his trousers and shirt and though she had an idea as to what they were, she didn't want to look too closely to find out. And then he confirmed it.

"I can't stop, Rose." One hand encircled his erection, but didn't move. His head dropped even more, his eyes lowering as his other hand pulled the tail end of his shirt to his lap, trying to cover himself up. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

A sudden shudder went through him. She saw his hand move just out of her view, saw him wince and grit his teeth. Seconds later, he stiffened and his entire body collapsed while still in a kneeling position.

He'd barely touched himself before coming.

His back straightened a little, and, brushing off the fact that he'd just masturbated a few inches away from her, he continued, "It's a drug." His voice was a bit stronger, but still too weak for her liking. "An aph... aphrodisiac."

"Someone drugged you?" she asked, surprised more than she probably should be by this revelation.

He shook his head slowly, just a small shift from side to side. "No, it's... it doesn't matter."

She could see the fight it was taking for him to get the words out. He was struggling with each breath, each word his lips needed to push out.

"The drug, it-- it gets into a person's system--mine, in this case--and it arouses, and begins to cycle into shorter and shorter time periods until it's--" he jerked his head up, sharp eyes staring into the darkness on the other side of the console.

"All you can do," she whispered, following his line of sight. There was nothing there, just the console with wires sticking out of it, and the hammers hanging from a nail on the other end. Kneeling beside him hesitantly, she reached out to touch his shoulder, but he shrank away, snapping his gaze back to her.

"Don't," he muttered, looking at the floor. "I can't take it right now."

Trying not to feel hurt, she dropped her hand to her lap and sat back on her heels. "Sorry." They were always so tactile around one another that it actually took more effort not to touch him than it did to touch him.

He sighed and shifted away from her. "There's an antidote that I can make. I just, I need to get to the console." He rested shaking hands on the floor, attempting to get up, to make his body move higher than a slumped heap, but she could see the effort it took him. Sweat was beading on his brow and that scared her; she'd never seen him sweat before.

He fell forward, catching himself inches from falling face first into the metal grating. When she moved forward to help, he jerked away from her touch yet again.

"Please, don't," he said, blowing air through dry lips, back and chest heaving as he fought to breathe.

"Doctor--" she began, but he sat back, shifting away from her.

His groan was low and barely audible as he shuddered in defeat. With a quick glance at his lap, she saw that he was getting hard again. When his hands lowered, she stood up and hastily paced away, swallowing thickly and trying not to listen. Fighting tears, she fiddled with the console, wishing she could help him, but with the way he kept avoiding her touch, she didn't think that was a good idea.

Would he die if she touched him now? Would he regenerate?

Moments later, she heard scrambling sounds behind her and turned to see him once again trying to stand. He made it as far as a few inches above the floor before dropping back down.

She watched him, squeezing her hands into fists to keep from rushing over to help him up. "You can't even get to your feet, how do you expect to pilot the TARDIS?"

He waved off her words as if they were of no more consequence than a gnat. "Doesn't matter. I have to."

"You look like you're dying," she told him, and her stomach clenched tight when he only stared evenly back at her. She drew in a deep breath and stood up straighter. "I'll do it, I'll get us there."

He shook his head, a tired smile playing about the corners of his lips. "It's not as easy as that. It's a precision flight."

"So?" Turning confidently back to the TARDIS controls, she ran her eyes over the ones she knew. "Just tell me what to do." There was the gyro-switch stabilizer. The randomizer. A button that she thought might be the thrusters, but she'd never used them, so she couldn't be sure. "Did it before," she called over her shoulder, though the words were more for her sake than his. Her confidence was beginning to wane at the sight of so many controls. She'd only ever flown the TARDIS with the Doctor right there, standing over her shoulder, watching her every move.

"When you flew before," he said slowly, but with slightly more strength than before, "those were random flights. Random landings."

She turned around with a huff, annoyed that he didn't seem to have the confidence in her that she didn't have in herself. "But you can tell me how to do it, yeah?"

He shook his head and she saw the warmth in his eyes, the slight smile climbing a little higher on his lips. "It's too difficult for me to..." the smile slipped and he sank down a bit. "To relay everything. You'd need to know the names of all the bits and bobs."

Her eyes returned to the console and all the dials and buttons. Flips and switches and square things that seemed to exist only to be beaten with a hammer. He was right; she had no idea what she was doing. If she did try, if she made the attempt, she'd probably only end up messing things up, and without him to fix them again, it wouldn't be the usual giggle-worthy moment those times always turned into.

"Ok, so," she started bravely and then trailed off, sighing heavily. Shoving away from the console in frustration, she let her eyes roam the room, though whether for inspiration or to get the image of the Doctor out of her mind for a few precious seconds, she didn't know.

It was hard to look at him and see the man she loved so weak that he couldn't get up off the floor. To see him and not be able to run to him to help him. To fix him. But it might kill him. He'd been telling her since Satellite Five that it was safe, and she hadn't believed him. But what about now? He was dying and he needed help. But she couldn't give him that help, so what could she do?

Help him until he did regenerate? Comfort him until he died?

Swallowing the distaste she felt for that idea, she looked at the man in front of her. He was still him, but he wasn't.

She wanted him to be this Doctor. Talking a mile a minute, rushing around the console, doing his Time Lord thing.

But he wasn't going to be that way until either she got them to the planet he needed, or he regenerated, and even then, he'd be that other him, not this him. She forced herself to face the facts; he was dying.

Her fear was in her voice when she spoke again. "There's got to be something I can do to help."

He was gritting his teeth now, hands shaking as he dropped his head to his chest. It was coming over him again. About once a minute now, she figured. His body wouldn't be able to keep up for much longer, even with two hearts. He maneuvered his back to her again, though she wasn't sure why he bothered; was he ashamed or embarrassed or did he just think she didn't want to see him like this?

It was too late really, because she had, and she'd never be able to get the sight of him on the floor, desperate and frantic, out of her mind.

"Doctor," she muttered, closing the distance between them. Resting a hand on his shoulder, she knelt beside him. "Let me help."

"No," he gritted out. One hand clutched at the end of his shirt while the other shoved her hand away. "You don't trust me, remember, Rose Ty..." he shook his head as if to clear it and stared at her with a confused frown. "Rose."

Her temper flared at his continual dismissal of her. She didn't understand why he kept pushing her away. It wasn't like it mattered at this point anyway. He was dying. If she touched him, it was likely only to speed up the process, maybe give him a little pleasure in the meantime. Clenching her teeth, she shot daggers at his shoulder. "There has to be something we can do!"

"Well, there's not," he yelled back, eyes sliding to the side to stare at the walkway above them.

Settling her gaze on his back as he touched himself, refusing to let her in, she had the sudden feeling that he was hiding something. "Yes, there is," she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing. I'm not not telling you anything. All right?" His usually expressive eyes were dull and rimmed in dark circles, the weariness pouring off of him in waves. "This is it. The Tandis Root on Nmilport Three, Remeon providence, southern part of the continent, the year three thousand--"

Sharp, assessing eyes moved over his figure, taking in the way he wouldn't meet her eye, wouldn't look at her at all, and came to the conclusion that she was right. "You're a liar."

He didn't answer, merely slid his hands to his lap.

Rose watched him this time, didn't look away or turn her back. He wasn't completely preoccupied with his problem; he was also avoiding answering her. She could see it plain as day. "Looks like I was right not to trust you. You can't even give me an honest answer when your life is at stake." Satisfaction shot through her when he turned guilty eyes her way.

"It doesn't matter," he grunted, fingernails of his unoccupied hand scraping along his thigh, "doesn't matter because you don't trust me." He gasped, dropping his head back on his shoulders and staring up at the ceiling for a moment before turning his accusing gaze her way, tongue at the roof of his mouth in that way that he had to know did all sorts of things to her insides.

"What?" Caught off guard by his words, she grabbed the console behind her. This was her fault? There was something she could do to help and he wouldn't let her because he didn't think she trusted him? Idiot! The only thing she didn't trust him about was the one thing right now that didn't matter because, either way, it was going to happen.

He waved her query away. "Nothing."

"No," she challenged, pushing away from the console. "No, it's not nothing. There's something else we can do, but you don't want to for some reason. Seriously, is _now_ the time to be stubborn?"

His chest raised and lowered slowly, heavily. Tilting his head, he leveled his gaze to hers. "Sex."

"Fine," she said without hesitation. "If that's what it takes..." but then she remembered, it couldn't be with her because she'd end up killing him anyway. It had to be with someone else. She continued, weighing her words carefully so that he didn't hear the pain in them. "I'll land us somewhere--randomly--and find someone."

His eyes flashed in the first real display of fire she'd seen since leaving him behind in the kitchen. His jaw set tight, lips thinning into a line. "No."

But she paid him no mind. It was to save his life. He could have sex with someone else. And she could... bracing herself on the console, she fixed her mind on the end results. This would save his life. Bonus all around. Except for the part where he had to sleep with a perfect stranger. "So, I just... flip this," she mumbled, trying to remember the order in which he'd taught her. Flipping the white switch beneath her fingers, she turned her mind to the dial on her right. "Spin this to--"

"No," he said more forcefully. "Rose T-- Rose Tay--" he broke off with an annoyed sound and she heard him trying to move behind her, trying to get up.

She felt safe in the knowledge that he couldn't do it. He was too weak. She spun the dial and moved to the other side of the console. "Then I..." biting her finger, she stared down at the numerous choices. A red switch caught her eye. "I like red." She flipped it.

A hand suddenly grabbed hers and she jerked her head up to see the Doctor standing beside her, panting heavily, shirt open, chest heaving as he glowered at her. His hair was a mess, sticking up this way and that. The button and zip of his trousers were still open, but he'd put himself back into his pants. And there was such a fierce look in his eyes. "I said no."

Rose freed her arm and moved a few feet away. "If it'll save your life, why not?" How could he be this stubborn? This stupid?

He dropped all of his weight on his arms, bracing himself on the console as she'd done only moments before. He flipped a couple of switches and pressed a button that was just barely within reach. The TARDIS landed with a rough bump, knocking him to the floor and he fell on his back with a pained oomph. "It won't work," he panted, eyes turning to hers as she knelt beside him. "Will only work... with you."

She was too startled by his words to come up with a reply. Sex with her would cure him? That was stupid. Sex with her would kill him. Doubly kill him. "Oh, pull the other one," she told him, ignoring the moan her touch forced from his lips.

"I'm serious," he gasped, stretching under her hand, no, arching into it. She heard his breath catch and dropped her eyes to his lap.

He was hard and his hands were moving again and she wanted to help him. Wanted to soothe his skin and take away the pain she could see he was in. Instead of taking himself in hand, he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small amber bottle.

"What's that?" she asked, eyeing the bottle.

"Numb," was his only reply. His hand shook as he tried to fit his fingers around the sprayer.

She took it from him and sprayed a little on her pinkie, then raised it to her nose and sniffed it. There was no smell, but her skin felt tingly. Apparently it was a numbing spray of some kind. "Here," she murmured, moving around in front of him and settling between his splayed legs. His futile resistance was brushed aside with an impatient hand.

Was now really the time to fight her?

His brows dipped down when she knelt in front of him. "When I imagined you like this... it was with your mouth doing perfectly fantastic things to me and we were shagging like bunnies." He leaned back tiredly, resting his arms on the floor and chuckling darkly as she lightly pressed her fingertips to the waistband of his pants. "And it didn't hurt this much."

Biting her lip, she slid her fingers under the elastic, trying not to brush against his warm stomach. When she heard him suck in a breath and felt him draw back from her hand, she knew she'd done so anyway. "Sorry."

He raised a hand to her hair and slid his fingers down to the end of the strands.

Rose lowered his pants and freed him, nearly biting through her lip when she got a good look at him. It was so red and raw looking. Painful. Lifting the bottle, she slid her fingers under his cock and spritzed his skin. Almost as soon as she touched him, he got hard. Almost instantly hard. That wasn't natural, wasn't normal. No wonder he was in such bad shape. All the blood in his body was being rerouted. She slid her fingers tentatively along the flesh, trying to spread the liquid all over, but jerked her hand back when he grabbed hers, stilling it on him.

"Rose..."

Lifting her eyes to his, she saw that his mouth was tight. "S-- sorry." She loosened her fingers, but his hand tightened on hers.

Instead of tossing her hand aside, as she'd expected, he moved it along his cock, keeping his eyes on hers as they stroked him together. His hips arched up and then bucked, straining for the smallest of moments as he came, but there was no semen to speak of. As he relaxed back, she saw his heavy-lidded eyes stray to her lips, looking more satisfied than she'd seen him since first happening upon him.

"Thank you," he mumbled, darting his head to the side in a sudden movement that had her scrabbling along the metal grating to see if an alien was sneaking up on her.

"What is it?" she gasped, eyes darting this way and that, but everywhere she looked all she saw was the familiar; metal railings, glowing green luminescence and coral struts. "Doctor?"

Lowering his head to his chest, he collapsed backward, hitting his head on the flooring. "Nothing. I just thought I saw-- nothing."

Watching him closely, seeing his chest rise and fall more slowly than before, she waited for signs of the regeneration she still worried would come. But for some reason, this had felt different. Not as strong or life-ending. Chuckling mentally, she scooted over to the Doctor. Smoothing a hand down his temple, she stared into his face, waiting until his eyes opened and fastened on her before speaking. "You were serious?" At his blank look, she clarified, "When you said sex with me would cure you?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but she shook her head.

"I mean without you dying. Without regeneration."

His dark eyes, earnest and honest, settled on hers. "Yes."

For some reason, this time she believed him. "Why?" She shrugged a shoulder. "I mean, why me, specifically?" Her eyes swept over his face, searching for a hint of a lie. "Is it because of the artron energy and the huon... whatists? The thing that makes us and sex a bad idea?"

Looking more alive, he pushed himself into a half-reclining position, and she could've sworn she saw his lips turn up just the slightest bit. "Oh, you're clever."

Her lips quirked up in response to his words. "So, where before it killed you, now it'll save you?" Her smile disappeared as she thought about it. "That's too much of a coincidence."

"That's irony," he said brusquely, waving away her concern.

But she was already thinking about the next problem. "Doctor, I don't know if I can do this."

His hand lifted to her cheek, touching it only briefly, leaving a minute imprint of heat along her skin, before dropping to his side helping to support him again. "You can. You're Rose-- Rose..." trailing off, he flicked his eyes away and swallowed. "Rose--" breaking off with a sigh, he shoved himself into a full sitting position. An angry tone entered his voice as he stared at her, studying her face, examining her. "You're Rose..."

"Tyler," she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Tyler," he repeated fiercely. "You can do anything, Rose Tyler."

That wasn't exactly what she'd meant when she said she couldn't do this. There were other things to consider, like how the hell she could ever become aroused while he was in this condition. Maybe, once upon a time, finding the Doctor half-naked in the control room masturbating would've been a turn on, but right now it wasn't. It really wasn't, and it was making it hard for her to even imagine being in the mood at all.

But she needed to in order to save him. There was no way she could pilot them to the specific place and time they had to be to get the root he needed, and even if she did, how much time would he need to make the antidote?

She didn't have the first clue how to do that herself, and it was most likely exactly like flying the TARDIS, something he couldn't tell her how to do; you either knew, or you didn't.

Rose felt her frustration mounting.

"Doctor, I don't think I can... I mean," she cleared her throat and swallowed. "I'm not exactly, er, turned on right now and I don't think I can be or will be." Rushing the words out hadn't helped her embarrassment, but it may have succeeded in confusing the Doctor.

He was looking at her oddly. "I'm sorry?"

Taking a deep breath, she settled her hands in her lap and forced her eyes not to lower there as well. "I'm not... you know, ready. For sex."

His eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "You've had it before," he said incredulously. "With me. Often."

She chuckled and sucked her lips into her mouth to halt her growing smile. "No. Uh, body-wise. I'm not... I'm not likely to get-- wet, Doctor. I'm not going to get wet anytime soon."

"Ah." Eyes wide, he stared at her for a moment, considering the problem. "Right. I could help... try to help?"

"You're in no condition to--" he darted forward and kissed her, holding her to him as tightly as he could, but his strength just wasn't there. His hand dropped away and she could feel him panting again. She easily pulled away from his lips and then she felt his other hand on her chest, sliding along her cotton-covered breast. It slipped lower, to her stomach, and then brushed up under the hem and back up again, trailing along her skin. "Doctor, you're in pain, that's not something that's going to-- oh."

He grinned as his fingers pinched her nipple. "No?"

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed his hand and removed it from under her shirt. "No." Though having his hands on her usually was just about all it took to get her wet anymore, or a word, or a look, really, and sometimes the smell of him, and the sight of his glasses and his tie or when he had his shirt unbuttoned and his chest and neck were visible to her hungry, hungry eyes... clearing her throat, she shook her head.

This time it did nothing for her. She knew he was in pain, knew this was life or death, and that was in no way arousal-inducing. But she'd remembered something.

She climbed to her feet and looked down at him, biting her lip. "Just, um, hold on. I'll..." sighing, she turned from the look of disbelief mixed with disappointment on his face, and ran out of the room.

"Wha--?" she heard loudly behind her. "I thought... but you--"


	9. A Clockwork Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** La Petite Mort  
> **Character/Pairing:** Ten/Rose  
> **Rating:** Adult, humor/angst/romance... did I mention the humor?  
> **Summary:** The Doctor never saw fit to warn Rose about things that could happen. And then they happened.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who... duh.  
> **Thanks:** to momdaegmorgan for the beta.

Rose ran down the hall, around the corner, and into her bedroom.

Bypassing her rumpled bed, she tore open the drawer on her nightstand and pushed aside a few items before finding the one she wanted. Clutching her prize triumphantly, she ran back to the console room as quick as she could. Although, now that she thought about it, this was going to be awkward. And, perhaps, embarrassing.

Her steps slowed a little as she neared him, hiding her hands behind her back. "Sorry."

He was lying on the grating, head turned in her direction, one hand down his pants. "I understand," he gritted, but she could see that he didn't. He thought she was leaving him to his fate, and he didn't look at all understanding about it. "See you when I regenerate, yeah?"

She snorted and knelt beside him, rubbing her hand over his pants, cupping his balls. "Not a chance."

He came, eyes still on hers widening as her words sank in. "Then, what was with the running out of here?"

"Oh," she said casually, "nothing really. Just thought... I mean," clearing her throat--god, she was doing that a lot lately--she fiddled with the item still behind her back. "Well, there's this--"

His eyes left her face, drifting down to where her arm circled around behind her. A teasing tone lightened his voice. "What have you got there?" he asked, raising an eyebrow when she merely looked away. "Ro-- um. Rory?" His eyes slid from hers, landing somewhere near her stomach. "No, that's not right."

"Rose," she corrected, fighting tears again.

"That's the one!" he crowed, snapping his fingers and grinning at her. "My Rose. What have you got behind your back?"

Ignoring the pain that slipped through her heart at his loss of memory, she ran her thumbnail along the object and shrugged. "Just something to help." His eyebrows rose questioningly. "With my problem."

"Ah." He lay back on the floor with a sigh, watching her, smiling at her, waiting. And then he shot up like a catapult, grinning at her. "You have lube."

She felt her face burn at his words, which were more a taunting accusation than anything else, done in a teasing tone, but still. This was something she hadn't wanted the Doctor to know. He knew she did things at night. Masturbated. He knew that, he'd as much as said so in the kitchen earlier. And his other body, the mean one, he'd mentioned it as well, but knowing details like that she used lube was too much for her to take in. All that came out in answer was a strangled sound.

"Oh, you're a naughty Rose when I'm not around," he teased, voice low-pitched and husky.

How could he possibly do that? How could he feel anything for her at this point? She didn't understand. But, apparently, he did. He wanted her. She could see it in his eyes, and on his face. Could practically feel it radiating outward from him. He wanted her so badly, and she wanted him just as much. They'd been denied each other too long and this was it, their chance to have one another.

But first there was the matter of the lube.

The circumstances weren't exactly romantic or erotic; it was shag or die. And how did they get into these sorts of situations? Really, it was becoming almost routine.

The Doctor was watching her with his dark gaze, and though she felt a pull of something drawing her in, she didn't feel any closer to being aroused. When she made no move toward him, he licked his lips. "Don't mean to rush you, Rose, but..."

"I know." She did. In fact, she was acutely aware of it. He was dying. They needed to shag. On demand. Not exactly the hot, steamy time she'd imagined almost nightly. Well, there was only one thing for it.

She crossed her arms over her stomach, reaching for the hem of her nightshirt and drew it up over her head. The material was thick, and with a quick movement, she bunched it up and bent over the Doctor, raising his head to slip it underneath him like a pillow.

A tongue, wet and warm, pressed to the side of her breast and she nearly dropped his head at the unexpectedness action.

Glancing down, she saw him grinning at her. "Strawberries and cinnamon."

Moving back into her sitting position beside him was harder to do than taking her shirt off, because now she had to sit bare before him. He'd seen her naked plenty of times, but this was just awkward.

Forcing herself not to think about it, she stood up to slide her slippers and pajama bottoms off. Bare feet on the metal flooring, she tossed a quick glance at the Doctor under her lashes; he was still watching her. Every move she made, his eyes followed. Occupying herself with her clothing, she discreetly slid the bottle of lube inside one slipper and kept her eyes on the small pile she'd made.

He glanced at her bunny slippers and chuckled a little. "Shagging like bunnies," he mumbled, slipping a hand between his legs almost automatically.

Drawing her eyes down the length of his body she noticed that he was still fully clothed. That might make things a little difficult. Kneeling beside him, she untied the laces on his trainers and pulled them off along with his socks. Trousers now. Those would definitely get in the way. Fingers curling into the material, she caught his eye and lowered them slowly, as best she could with him lying down.

He raised his hips and lowered them again, all while stroking himself and watching her.

He seemed to like to do that. Watch her. She understood that, because she really liked to watch him too. Just not when he was like this. Under normal circumstances, she liked to watch enjoyed watching as he rushed around the console, working frantically to get them wherever it was that they were going. Liked to watch as he stepped out of the doors of the TARDIS and explained where they were, and what planet they were on. What the people were like. Why they needed to run for their lives again.

She just liked watching him: her Doctor.

And touching him, of course. That was a given. She scooted up beside his waist and bit her lip. Undressing him while he masturbated was an unusual experience. It certainly wasn't helping the awkwardness any. So, she decided she needed to turn it into a seduction rather than a cold, clinical disrobing reminiscent of hospital staff undressing a patient.

She leaned over and kissed his chest, pressing her lips to his warm body, almost shuddering at the sensation. He was too warm. His skin should be cool, not warmer than hers. Flipping her hair out of the way, she locked eyes with him and sucked and kissed her way down to his stomach, stopping to swirl her tongue along his hipbone. Her finger slipped under the waistband of his pants and lowered them; first one side and then the other.

She could hear the Doctor's harsh breathing, could feel his hand moving slowly on his cock. Her hair, she knew, was brushing against his both. With a lick of her lips, she lifted her head and gazed at the motion of fingers stroking hard flesh.

She was just inches away now, and with an urge borne of temptation, she darted her tongue out and licked the base of his cock.

His reaction was immediate. He jerked and stilled, but not because he was spent; he was waiting, in anticipation, of her next move.

"Rose," he begged, his throaty voice more than she could bear. His hand left his erection and settled in her hair, pushing gently, encouraging her to taste him, to take him into her mouth.

She did so, scooting closer in order to be able to hold him still while she wrapped her lips around his length. Her tongue teased the tip for a moment before she began to move on him. Just seconds later, his hips bucked up, stronger than before and he groaned loudly.

He slid free of her mouth with a wet pop and his fingers tightened their grip, pulling her hair before releasing it and dropping his arm to the side. "Th-- thank you."

Licking her lips, she grinned at him. "Now my mouth's all tingly."

He snorted a laugh and sighed heavily, closing his eyes as he rested.

Though the moment had been lightened considerably, Rose still felt awkward. This was usually the part where Mickey rolled over and fell asleep, leaving her unsatisfied. But, she wasn't quite turned on yet, so that didn't matter. It was the knowing part. Knowing that he was soon going to be just as aroused as a minute before. That he was going to need to get off, repeatedly, while she struggled to become excited.

Trailing kisses to his shoulder, she left behind a wet path with her tongue as she scraped her nails along his hip.

Every other time they'd had sex it'd been frantic and hurried, touching and clawing and good and now, now, now. This time, however, the rush wasn't the sex part; it was the time they had left before the Doctor died.

Her mouth paused on his shoulder as she tried to shove those thoughts aside. They weren't conducive to getting in the mood.

The Doctor was just lying there, she noted, flushing hotly. He wasn't moving anything except his chest as he breathed in and out, and she realized a second later that he probably wasn't really enjoying this. Nor would he.

His hand rose to her hair again, brushing the strands back from her face as they fell forward.

She shivered at the feel of his rough fingertips trailing along her cheek and temple, threading through her hair and back down to the ends.

The clock was ticking.

"You're embarrassed," he whispered against her forehead. "Why?" She felt him shift under her slightly and lifted her head to see what he was doing. His hand was holding up the lube she'd hidden in her slipper. "This?"

She grabbed it from him and held it out of his reach. "Shaddup."

"Number one Doctor recommended," he chuckled into her ear and she laughed, resting her head against his chest, feeling it rise and lower slowly. His hand was still in her hair, trailing through the strands with slow fingers. "Hate to be a bother," he muttered, and she sat up.

"I'm sorry. It's just..." Playing her finger around the rim of the cap, she avoided his eyes and tried to push her embarrassment away. This was life or death and she was putting her own shame in front of his life. Sitting straighter, she opened the bottle and started to tip it over into her palm. Sudden as a shot, the Doctor's fingers were wrapped around her wrist.

He sat up more quickly than she would've thought possible in his current state and took the bottle from her.

"Wha--" she began, but he didn't answer, he simply encouraged her to uncross her legs and maneuvered them into position over his, scooting her forward until she was between his legs and practically nose to nose with him.

Darting a glance at his face, she saw his eyes drop to her lips, but he didn't kiss her like she expected him to. He simply moved back a little and poured the bottle into his left hand. "I want to do this for you."

She was pretty sure her insides turned to mush at his husky tone and the heated look he was giving her. "You don't have to--"

"No, I really, really want to do this for you." Setting the lube to the side, he placed his dry hand on her hip, caressing the skin there before he lowered his other hand between her legs.

"O-- okay." A sharp breath escaped her as he cupped her gently, moving his fingers lightly over her folds, letting her get used to his touch. His skin was so hot now, burning her from the inside out as two of his fingers slipped inside her. Her nails dug into his arm as he pressed up and into her with small, sensuous movements. "God, that... yeah, that helps."

Oh, it was definitely a start. He was sliding into her again and again, deeper each time, definitely getting her started. Oh. Dropping her head to his neck, she moved against him, feeling his thumb caressing her clit briefly before his hand stilled. There was movement along her inner thigh and she knew it was him hardening against her leg. She let out a shaky breath. "I think," she began, then had to swallow thickly before she could continue, "I'm good now. And since you are too..."

His lips brushed against her temple before he slid back to the floor, arms dropping to the metal grating. Her body clenched at the loss, feeling empty without his fingers caressing her, without the weight of his hand between her thighs, without his arm snaking between their bodies. "Think you're gonna have to do most of the work," he panted, lying still beneath her.

Climbing carefully to her knees, she straddled his waist. Feeling his eyes on her, seeing his hands clenching in the tail ends of his shirt, she knew he was itching to take care of himself, but that would defeat the purpose here. She needed him hard.

Hovering, she took him in hand, then waited to see if he was going to come immediately or if she'd be able to slide down on him. He gasped and held his breath, but remained hard. Amazingly, gloriously hard. Holding his erection still, she lowered onto him, gasping at the feel of the tip pressing against her entrance.

God, how was she getting turned on by this?

"Rose," he bit out, clutching at her thighs and moving higher, grabbing her hips. "Down, now."

She bit her lip and lowered herself over him slowly, drawing out each centimeter, making him hiss her name out again. Once he was completely sheathed inside her, they both held still, eyes locked, mouths open and panting.

He swallowed.

The sight of his Adam's apple moving along his long neck made her clench him tighter.

Flattening her hands on his stomach, she adjusted her position and tried to get comfortable, but the grating beneath her knees was hard and painful.

The Doctor's fingers tightened on her hips, nails digging in as deep as hers had on his arm. "Can you... just--" he bit out, urging her to move on him.

"Yeah." Lifting herself up, she supported most of her weight on her hands, feeling the Doctor's muscles clench beneath her palms and fingers. This wasn't going to work. Settling her hands instead, on the floor beside him, she lowered herself again, and felt his hips buck up. His cock softened inside her as he dropped backward, breathing heavily.

She held herself still, clenching her muscles, in order to keep him from falling out.

He recovered rather quickly and she leaned down to kiss his lips, hovering just above his body, not touching him. She didn't want to overwhelm him, but it was also helping her to get aroused, this teasing non-touching. Just a bit. She didn't think it'd be enough though, not as quickly as needed, but every little bit helped.

His lips were dry and rough against her own, his tongue so slow that she was doing most of the kissing. It was pleasant, but not enough to fuel the fire that was currently only just smoldering in her center. "How long do we have?" she asked, pulling free and resting her arms on his chest, settling her chin on her hands.

"Thirty-two minutes when you first found me," he mumbled, staring up at the ceiling. "So, that leaves approximately..."

"Eleven minutes," she gasped, sitting up in horror. His gaze returned to her, his eyes watching her levelly. "It's not enough time. I can't--"

He wrapped his arms around her briefly, but tightly. "We have all the time in the universe, you and me." When her eyes shot to his incredulously, his lips curved up a little. "No pressure."

Right. No pressure.

Shifting a bit on her knees, she sighed. "This floor isn't helping."

He lifted himself up on his elbows and reached over to her pajama bottoms. Instead of grabbing the brushed cotton covered in moons and stars however, he hooked his fingers into her bunny slippers. With a wink, he tossed one to her. "Use this." Lightly prodding her other knee, he slipped the one he was still holding underneath and waited for her to do the same. An infectious grin lit up his face and he hummed happily in the back of his throat. Unbelievably, Rose found herself grinning back.

She was sitting on the Doctor, with his softened cock inside her, waiting for him to get hard again, with bunny slippers beneath her knees.

Yeah, their lives were slightly different than most.

He shifted his hands from her hips to her sides, fingers trailing as softly as ghosts on the wind. "Forget about the time, Rose. Don't worry about it. Look at me."

Reaching behind her, she rested a hand on his thigh, scraping her fingernails along his skin. Her eyes settled on his, taking in the lazy heat not quite pushed aside by the pain. When he began to harden inside her, she leaned over and kissed him again, enjoying the fullness of him filling her up once more. Her tongue played with his, slowly drawing out the pleasure as her breasts brushed against his chest.

He moved his hand down between his legs as automatically as he'd been doing for the past--

She pulled free of him as his fingers met with their melded bodies and stilled. "How long?" she asked, trying, trying so hard to move past the countdown in her head, trying to not to think of the Doctor dying again and becoming another man. She clawed her nails down his chest, flicking his nipple with a fingertip and then leaning forward to soothe the sting with a wet kiss and a sweep of her tongue. "How long have you been at this?" she couldn't help herself from asking.

"Hours," he said through gritted teeth, finding and rubbing her clit gently, slowly, trying to build her up to her climax.

But now wasn't the time for gentleness. Joining her hand with his, she showed him the rhythm she wanted, needed, if they were to have a chance in hell. "Hours of getting yourself off?" She gasped as a shock of arousal slammed through her body. "That's good... like that."

"Mmm." He sat up with a grunt and wrapped his arms around her, more anchoring himself to her than holding her close. After a moment of stillness, she changed positions, wrapping her legs around his waist and then began to move. Her breasts pressed hard against his chest, nipples rubbing against skin in a pleasing way as she slowly lowered herself over him. It was awkward, being in this position, but the Doctor was trying to help by sliding his hands under her thighs and lifting and lowering her with gentle pressure.

His breath burst on her neck every few seconds, the effort almost too much for him.

She could feel his hearts beating against her chest, and knew they were too slow. She whimpered and moved faster, trying to get her body to respond more quickly, but it wasn't happening. Every thought of pleasure led to one of pain and death.

One of his hands slid up to her neck, brushing her hair from her shoulder with a gentle swipe. "You're beautiful. You know that?"

She felt tears sting her eyes and clawed her fingers into his back, holding him closer, trying to bury herself deep inside of him. "Don't die."

A breathless chuckle left him, warming her neck with his moist breath. "I'm trying not to."

Her arms loosened and she pulled back from him, sliding one hand to the nape of his neck, holding him still for a fierce, desperate kiss. Her lips had barely touched his before she felt him shuddering beneath and inside of her. A wet chuckle escaped her. "It's the woman who's supposed to have multiple orgasms." Pressing another kiss to his lips, she whispered, "Always gotta be different."

He wrapped his arms around her again, holding on to her, trying to keep himself up so that he didn't collapse against the floor. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes and etched into the lines of his face.

"Maybe it's the alien in me." He waggled his eyebrows, trying to smile, but was interrupted by a cough.

She bit back the concern and panic that washed over her, cooling off the little bit of ardor she'd been feeling, and moved on him, swirling her hips, wanting to force his arousal, though she had no idea if that would work. Did she have any influence over what he felt now? Or was it all the drug? "I think it's more the alien..." she reached down between their legs and touched him, chuckling when he shuddered, "...in me."

His lips curved up in a phantom smile, gone before it fully appeared.

In the back of her mind, a clock was ticking down the seconds, marking them off like pages in a calendar. Her smile faded as quickly as his and she hid her face in his neck, not wanting him to see that she was beginning to give up.

Still, she continued to press kisses against his skin. To trail her hands down his shoulders and sides.

It wasn't going to be enough, she knew. She'd never be able to come like this. Not in the amount of time they had left.

Six minutes.

Almost as if he heard her thoughts, he smoothed a hand down her back and pulled away, not letting her hide from him. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and caressed softly. His dark eyes dropped to her mouth, a small breath escaping him as he shifted under her and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. "Stay with me," he whispered into her mouth, sliding his tongue along her lower lip before pressing a butterfly kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"I'm trying," she whispered back, dropping her lashes to hide the ache forming in her chest.  
Forcing back the tears she was struggling against, she pressed into the palm of his other hand as it slid around her side and over her stomach, trailing up to cup her breast, where he rubbed firmly with his thumb. He thrust under her without leaving, just a press deeper inside that sent awareness through her.

Awareness that he was still buried within her. Still filling her.

Even as exhausted and ill as he was, he was trying, and that made her feel ashamed. He wasn't giving up, so why was she? Well, she just wouldn't, that was all.

She arched into his touch.

His eyes roamed over her breasts where one of his hands played with her nipple, flicking and pinching it while the other hand slipped between them to rub over the bud of nerves at her center. He began to harden inside her and she wasted no time, immediately beginning to move on him, long, slow strokes that lit a fire in her. She wasn't sure though if it was him wrapped around and buried inside her or the love and need that was written plainly on his face.

His hand slipped off her breast, landing heavily on her thigh. She took it in hers, threading their fingers together.

A breath hitched in her throat when his other hand moved back as he lowered himself to the floor, watching her, trying not to look as bad as he obviously felt. His hips thrust up occasionally, trying to help her along, but he was losing the battle.

Reluctantly releasing his hand, she placed both of hers on his thighs, curving backward to find as much leverage as possible. The Doctor was gasping, clutching the tails of the shirt still hanging off of his shoulders.

She needed to come, needed to in order to save his life.

Desperation poured through her and she moved faster, rising and lowering on him, striving to keep him hard long enough for her to save him. Long enough to come. "I can't do it," she sobbed, no longer fighting the tears seeking escape. "You're gonna die and it's my fault. Again."

"No," he ground out, hips thrusting hard into hers. A second later, he squeezed his eyes tight, burying himself to the hilt inside her. She let another sob escape her when he grunted and went limp.

"Four minutes," she breathed. "Four minutes and then you'll die."

The Doctor opened his eyes and looked at her. "Not to worry," he said almost cheerfully, giving her a toothy grin.

Rose seated herself on him again, staring as her fingers rubbed her clit. Confusion poured through her. "What?"

"Oh," he scratched his head ruefully, looking around them. "Didn't I tell you? Always mean to tell them, and never do. And don't you listen to Romana either, I am not scatterbrained." He brushed those words away like they were an annoyance he couldn't be bothered with. "Water under the bridge and all that."

Her eyes widened on him, mouth dropping open, but the Doctor didn't notice.

"See, there's this thing my people do when we're dying," he continued, sitting up and getting right in her face. She moved back a little, trying to see him without going cross-eyed. His unusual behavior wasn't helping her comfort level either. "It's called regeneration."

"I-- I know," was all she could think to say. He was delusional and they only had a few minutes left. She felt a nauseating sense of despair wash over her. They'd never make it in time.

"Kills and re-grows every cell in my body and-- what do you mean you know?" He frowned thunderously and his features hardened. "How could you possibly know? Not as if we go around announcing it to every alien in the universe." He glared around the room and bellowed. "Romana!" But then, his eyes returned to hers and he looked at her very intently. A smile broke across his lips and he looked quite pleased. "Oh, I see. But, you're not alien, are you?"

Rose's lip started to tremble. "Doctor?"

His eyes sharpened on her and the lack of recognition in them frightened her. "Who are you?" he demanded, shifting beneath her. His eyes went wide. "We seem to be naked."

Rose couldn't help the watery laugh that escaped her at the prim sounding words. "Yes," she chuckled. "Yes, we are." Swiping angrily at her eyes, she drew in a deep breath. "Doctor, please, you have to remember. Time is running out and I can't do this myself. I'm Rose. Rose Tyler."

"Ah, this is awkward," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, "because, you see, I generally don't go around being naked with young women I don't know, and yet, here I am, naked with you. And we seem to be in a bit of a bother."

He blinked at her, then suddenly grabbed at his chest, gasping.

"Doctor!" She reached out to grasp his arm, but he batted her hand away.

"No, don't touch me." His teeth were bared, his body beginning to respond to the drug again. "I need," he gasped, panting for breath, chest heaving up and down as he clutched at it. "I need..." his eyes found hers and there was a primitive sort of urgency there. "I need you."

Tears slipped from her eyes as his hands clutched her hips and urged her to move. "Doctor, please, you have to help me."

His death grip on her hips let up and one hand settled on her cheek. "Don't cry," he said softly, sounding reassuring despite the clipped way he spoke. "Brave heart, Tegan." He settled back on the floor, furrowing his brow. "Tegan?" Closing his eyes, he shook his head. "No," he whispered, "not Tegan."

One-and-a-half minutes left.

Closing her eyes, Rose ignored the Doctor in front of her for the Doctor she remembered. He was still hard, still urging her to move, but she didn't think he was actually paying any attention to what was going on around him.

She rubbed her clit, thinking about her Doctor.

Warmth spread through her as she thought of him bursting into her room, waking her up just because he wanted to share something with her. A planet, a celestial happening, a joke, it didn't matter; he always seemed to want to share everything with her.

She clenched tight and began a steady rhythm of rocking on him, blocking out his ramblings about Nyssa and Trakken and someone called the Master.

In her mind, she saw his grin, the one that was always there for her, no matter what.

Her hand cupped and caressed her breast, pinching the nipple, gasping as a shock of pleasure shot through her.

The way he held her after a death-defying trip. So tight. Always so tight and so long that she felt like he was trying to burrow inside of her, and she wanted him to. Wanted to burrow inside of him as well.

She thrust her hips down on him, feeling heat swamp her body. She was wet now, with her body's own natural lubricant and she clamped down on his cock. He'd stopped muttering and she felt his fingers tighten on her hips, nails digging into tender flesh.

His scent. Metal and musk and tea and that special scent that was just _him_.

Thirty seconds now.

Clinging tightly to his cock, she rocked her hips and fumbled her finger over her clit. Seeking, needing, trying so desperately to come.

The warmth of his laughter reverberated in her ears.

Twenty seconds.

The fingers on her breast were brushed aside as his took their place. Her eyes shot open and she was face to face with the Doctor, her Doctor. He sat up and grinned. "I remember now, sweet Reinette."

Pain sliced through her chest and she blinked back tears of disappointment. She couldn't stop now, though she wanted to, god, how she wanted to. It wasn't his fault, she knew. He couldn't help it, he was dying, but it still hurt.

It still made her catch her breath and choke on a sob. "Not Reinette," she whispered, dropping her head to his shoulder, tears slipping from her eyes. She held him tight and stroked his back with one hand, running the other through his hair, burying herself in him as far as she could one last time.

Ten seconds.

His finger moved over her clit as he turned his head to hers, placing his mouth beside her ear. Hot, moist breath tickled her hair. "No," he breathed. "You're Rose Marion Tyler... keeper of my hearts."

Joy and pleasure rocketed through her, filling her up and sending pulses of heat through her body, starting her heart pumping again.

Two seconds.

Rose came so hard, she didn't even feel the Doctor's release. She rode out the waves of pleasure, taut and straining above him, her inner muscles grasping his cock, rocking ever more slowly above him.

With a shuddering gasp, she collapsed against him.


	10. Zen Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** La Petite Mort  
> **Character/Pairing:** Ten/Rose  
> **Rating:** Adult, humor/angst/romance... did I mention the humor?  
> **Summary:** The Doctor never saw fit to warn Rose about things that could happen. And then they happened.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who... duh.  
> **Thanks:** to momdaegmorgan for the beta.  
> **A/N:** My beta deserves half the credit for the smut in this chapter.

The Doctor awoke to a gentle pressure on the top of his head. Fingers--he assumed they were fingers... hoped they were fingers--threaded loosely through his hair, then released it. A second later, they were plunging deep into the strands again, pulling up gently and then releasing. It felt nice, soothing and gentle.

He began to drift back to sleep.

But then the scent of tea and toast and strawberries hit his nose. Opening his eyes lazily, he stretched and glanced at Rose, who was lying beside him.

"Did you just... pet me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

She was on her side, in a nightshirt, one arm resting on the pillow above his head, fingers continuing to lazily drift through the strands. "I may have." The corners of her lips curved up, though she was fighting it.

His eyes flicked over to the nightstand, on which sat a tray of tea and food. "Since you brought breakfast, I'll forgive the petting."

She rolled her eyes and rolled out of bed. "You love the petting."

"Maybe," he conceded, dragging himself into a sitting position, "but just so you know, I'm drawing the line at grooming." Tossing the cover aside, he attempted to get up, but Rose had come around to his side of the bed and now stood in his way. Sighing, he looked up at her. "Rose, I think I'm healed enough."

"Perhaps." She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at him. "Don't want you to have a relapse though."

He grabbed her by the hips and drew her closer, forcing her to uncross her arms and settle them on his shoulders. "Thought we proved just how well-healed I am last night." His eyes lighted on her cheeks, watching them tint just the tiniest bit.

She looked over his head, fighting another smile. "Well, I never said your mouth wasn't healed."

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to her stomach, feeling a bit annoyed at the cotton covering that kept him from tasting her skin. Bunching her nightshirt up out of his way, he resumed placing open-mouthed kisses beside her belly button, feeling her muscles tighten every time his lips touched her skin. Every time his tongue slid out just the slightest bit to taste her.

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders and she leaned toward him. Bending lower, she whispered, "Trying to influence me to let you _out_ of bed? Or keep you in it?"

Giving up, he sprawled out on his back and waited for her to serve him his breakfast. She knew as well as he did that he was healed. That he had been since he'd woken up from his regenerative coma six hours after collapsing to the floor of the TARDIS. She'd been there when he awoke, tending to him, hovering over him, dried tears streaking her face.

The time in bed wasn't so bad though. He had Rose surrounding him with her girly things spread throughout her room, had the girl herself waiting on him, and... who was he to say no to lying beside her each night?

He did drift off occasionally, but she slept far more than he did. And in those times, he did the same things she did when he dozed off; ran his hands through her hair, watched her, kissed her forehead, and snuggled up next to her.

There was a sense of anxiousness beginning to eat away at him. He was getting antsy. Just a bit.

His fingers itched for the TARDIS controls. His eyes yearned for the sight of a new planet. His body, when it wasn't craving Rose's, wanted to feel the TARDIS humming and vibrating through him.

But, she seemed content to keep him in bed. And keep him company.

One last breakfast, he thought, as he climbed back under the covers and straightened his body beneath them. One last breakfast and then he was getting up. It was just that he liked when Rose fussed over him, if he was being honest. Liked it when she dished out his tea and sat beside him, munching on toast and chatting about nothing in particular.

He settled himself into a sitting position and took his teacup when she handed it to him, eyes dropping to the brown tray she'd brought his breakfast in on. "What's that?" he asked, nodding toward the tray as he took a sip of the hot liquid. It didn't look familiar and it most definitely wasn't the same one she'd been using. There were no bright yellow smiley faces plastered across it, for one.

Her eyes darted to his, finger briefly running along the side of the wooden server, shifting it a little. "Um, nothing."

Suspicious, he raised an eyebrow at her and grabbed his glasses from the nightstand. Straining to see over Rose's arm, he sat a little higher and slipped the spectacles on.

She was removing the kettle and cups and sugar from the tray.

Curiouser.

China clinked together as she sat them on her crowded nightstand. Nimble fingers picked up the object and held it against her stomach as she turned toward him.

His glasses slid down his nose, just far enough that they were useless. Sipping at his tea, he waited. Her eyes settled on him, lips turning up just a little before climbing higher. He set his cup aside and sat up, arms falling between his knees as curiosity itched under his skin. "What do you have there?"

She sucked her lips into her mouth and straightened the rectangle of backer board surrounded by wood before flipping it over with a flourish. "Ta da!" she sang out, grinning at him with her tongue poking between her teeth as his eyes settled on the white poster with multi-colored levels framed under glass.

He snorted in amusement and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "My charts! You had them framed." He chuckled, and then dropped back against the headboard with a pout. "I worked really hard on them you know, and I only got to show you the one."

She laughed and climbed on the bed, presenting the framed chart to him with a kiss to his cheek. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you." She stayed on her hands and knees, looking at the tray with him. Her lips pressed against his jaw. "Sorry I made you take your charts and go away."

"Hmph." He turned his head toward her so the next kiss landed on his lips. She tasted like tea and milk and butter. He licked his lips. "I suppose you had precedent."

"I did," she agreed, settling into a sitting position against him. "But maybe if I hadn't been so dismissive of your charts and your promises, you would have come to me for help. Maybe?"

His eyes slid to hers unable to deny the truth in what she was saying, but it had been his fault too; he'd lied to her, made her distrust him. "Maybe," he agreed, and they both heard the 'definitely' in his words.

She swallowed and looked across the room to the mirror in front of them. "It was close," she whispered, warm body pressing into his side. "I almost lost you again."

Mouth opening to tell her that she'd lose him again someday anyway, he bit back the words and nodded instead. Now wasn't the time to discuss his eventual death given the life he led. No, _they_, he realized. The lives _they_ led. She was with him, not only in bed and body, but also in his life for as long as she wanted to be, and she'd proclaimed that to be forever.

He'd hold her to that for as long as he could, and... glancing at the top of her head, he wondered if that would be much longer than either of them had thought.

He thought maybe it would.

"Why'd you lie?" she asked suddenly, pulling away from him and leveling an accusing glare at him. "I need-- I have to be able to trust you, Doctor, but how do I know you won't lie again, when it's important and it really counts?"

He sighed, recognizing the truth of her words. Still, that didn't make it any easier to admit. Feeling an unaccustomed nervousness, he licked his lips and slid his gaze away from her piercing one. "I wanted you."

She stared at him, he could see her eyes on him from the corner of his own. Her voice, when she spoke, was flat and disbelieving. "That's it? You... _wanted_ me?"

"Yes."

She shook her head and scoffed loudly. "And, yet, the other you, the mean one--"

"Eleventh body," he sighed, pulling his glasses off and folding the frames up. "That was my eleventh body, this is my tenth, the one before that was my ninth. Please quit calling my eleventh body 'the mean one'. And-- and I wasn't even that mean," he practically whined. "A bit ruder than now, but I've been worse. Been better too," he acknowledged with a bob of his head.

"Fine, your eleventh body, whatever. You resisted in that body." She frowned, thinking about her words. "Does that mean you didn't want me then?"

"No," he insisted, setting the framed chart on the floor to lean against the bed and tossing his glasses on her bedside table. When he straightened up again, he wrapped his arm around her and drew her close. "Absolutely not. I wanted you in all of my bodies. I'd want you if I were a woman, or an alien... well, a different kind of alien than a Time Lord. If I were a pool of sludge--"

She snickered and smacked his chest. "Wally."

"My point is," he chuckled, "I'll always want you."

"Why should I believe you?" she asked slowly, her smile sliding from her face. "I mean, about anything you say now?" A single shrug lifted her shoulders as if she were uncomfortable with the conversation. "I want to, but..." she traced the edge of the duvet with her nail.

Trailing his fingers along her shoulder, he considered her words. It was true that she had no reason to believe him, but there was nothing he could say or do to change that. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, tightening his hand around Rose as if he could keep her next to him, and with him, through sheer force of will, but at the same time, feeling her slipping away already. He didn't like this, didn't like being this vulnerable. It didn't happen often, but when it did, it leveled him.

Reminded him of other times he'd felt like this. Unbidden, images swam before his eyes: burning flames flashed brightly on his closed lids. Crackling flames teased his ears amid screams and explosions, making him flinch.

"I killed them, Rose." The words, so low he almost didn't hear them himself, slipped from his lips without thought, sharing his guilt and his shame with the one person he cared about more than any other. Loved more than any other. "I know-- I know that doesn't help, but..."

He turned toward her, finally opening his eyes again, and sat forward, to look into hers.

Rose's hand settled on his chest, brows dipping down. "Your people?" She shook her head, frown lightening a little. "No, Doctor, you had to do it."

Something tickled at his mind and he stared back at her with wide eyes. He hadn't thought-- it had never occurred to him that she... oh, this was definitely not in the guidebook. He chuckled and hugged her to him, squeezing her as close as possible. She gave a protesting noise, but he just held her tighter, inhaling her scent, enjoying the smell of strawberries and cinnamon.

"What?" she breathed, holding him just as tightly, arms under his, chin resting on his shoulder. "What'd I say?"

"Nothing," he told her, rocking her back and forth quickly with a grin before letting her go and pulling back to take her cheeks in his hands. "Everything. You, Rose Tyler, are brilliant!"

"Uh, okay," she mumbled. "You sure nothing's wrong, 'cause you just went from torn apart to ecstatic in zero-point-five seconds."

He took a deep, cleansing breath and held it for a few seconds before letting it out in a rush. "Positive." Leaning down to catch her eye, he looked from one to the other, such beautiful brown eyes with flecks of gold. He was silent, until she raised her eyebrows at him. "I'm going to do something... do you trust me?" he asked quickly.

"Yeah," she answered automatically, then paused and opened her mouth, shaking her head. "I mean-- I... don't," her eyes widened at saying it out loud. "I'm sorry, I don't."

"It's all right," he told her, fingers trailing down her temple. "I'm going to... I'm going to show you that you can trust me. That okay?"

She gripped his wrists and held tight, looking a little frightened. "You're gonna go inside my head?"

He shook his head, positioning his fingers. "No... well, yes, but just a tiny bit, just enough to allow you into my mind. Like standing in the doorway between them." She still looked nervous, so he smiled and kissed her forehead. "Nothing to be afraid of. It's painless."

She nodded once, stiffly, fingers clenching his wrists harder.

Bracing himself, he pressed into her mind, just the teeniest, tiniest bit, just enough to open the door, and then stood back, opening his mind to her fully.

She gripped even tighter. "What do I do?" Her voice trembled at the vastness of his thoughts and he couldn't help but let his love for her brush against her and wrap around her form as she stood alone at the entrance to his life.

He whispered against her forehead, letting his mind speak to her more than his mouth. "Whatever you want. My mind is completely open to you."

A gasp escaped her and he felt her breath on his neck moments before she slipped into his thoughts.

* * *

The Doctor scooted nearer to Rose as he smoothed her hair back from her forehead, watching her with a fond smile. Her eyes darted back and forth, hidden beneath closed lids. She shifted a little under his fingers and up against his hip, moving closer. A small smile lifted up her lips as she stretched and opened her eyes. They were a bit dull and there were tiny weary lines branching off from them.

"Morning?"

He chuckled and leaned down to brush a kiss against her lips. When she turned her head to the side with a protest, he stopped her with a finger to her chin.

"Morning breath," she mumbled, sliding a hand over her mouth.

The hand in her hair came down and pinched her nose playfully before moving on to tease her neck and jaw. "You've only been out for twenty minutes."

She sat up with a frown, reaching up to scratch the back of her head in confusion. "What happened?"

"You happened, Rose." When she merely tilted her head to the side in an unsatisfied way, he relented. "You went into my mind, do you remember?"

She began to nod, then stopped. "I-- I sort of remember... something. There was darkness and--" she gasped, lifting her hand to rub her temple. "A light. And so many thoughts. So much noise." Lips turning down, she massaged her head. "How can you stand it in there without going mad?"

"Bigger brain," he explained with a shrug. "Time Lord brain." He watched her closely, noting that her eyes were beginning to brighten and the lines were almost gone. "Feel okay?"

"Mmm," she answered, thoughts elsewhere. Then her eyes snapped to his. "You... I remember. I didn't go far, didn't look at too much, because..." dropping her gaze to her hands, which settled in her lap, she sighed, "well, I was afraid," she admitted. "But that you trust me enough to open your mind like that... thank you." Her eyes lifted back to his face, brown and gold and bright and shining with love.

The Doctor smiled and brushed her cheek with his finger. "How can I expect you to trust me if I can't show you that I trust you?"

She smiled widely and moved against him. "Thank you," she whispered again, dropping a kiss to his jaw. Her hand threaded through his hair, ruffling it a bit. "You know I love you, right?"

"Mmm," he hummed, grinning back as he gave her a cheeky wink. "Right back at ya."

She rolled her eyes with snorted laughter. "Plonker."

Taking her with him, he fell back against the pillows, watching as she settled more comfortably on him. Sliding her hair back with a finger, he tucked it behind her ear. "I love you," he whispered in her ear.

"Mmm" she hummed, leaning up to kiss him softly, unhurriedly. Her hand played with his jaw, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. "You're... completely healed?"

He shifted her with his arm, wrapping it around her. "Completely."

"That's good to know." Her voice was leisurely as she slid her hand over his shoulder, across his chest, stopping briefly to circle his right nipple with her thumb. Butterfly kisses tickled his chin and neck and lips as she made her way along the parts of him she could reach.

She pressed her mouth against his again, chin stretching up to kiss him more fully, moving her lips lazily on his. It was nice, just being here with her, taking their time, not running from aliens or being shot at. Just relaxing in Rose's arms and kissing her and holding her in return. He slid his fingers into her hair, tangling it in the strands, cradling the back of her head.

When she drew away briefly, watching him teasingly, he raised his eyebrows and smoothed his hand down her hair. "Going somewhere with this?"

She bit her lip and shook her head, tossing the duvet off of him. "Not really... just like touching you."

A smile twisted up his lips. He could relate to that because he adored touching her too.

Her hand, recently idle on his chest, began to slide down to his hip, and then a little lower. She turned her head to watch the trip it was taking, biting teasingly on her lower lip as she slipped her fingers between his legs. Taking his softened cock in hand, knuckles brushing against his thigh, her thumb rubbed abstract patterns on the top.

He watched as well, enjoying the slide of her skin on his, the lazy way she teased him with the pads of her fingers, circling around and underneath him. Her caresses were measured and deliberate, not strictly to arouse, but to feel. She mapped out every last centimeter of flesh, sliding this way and that as she breathed out a contented sigh.

As she wrapped her hand around him and squeezed, each touch was light and sensual. He wasn't hard yet, but with infinite slowness, and each further stroke, he could feel himself beginning to harden; a reaction more of his love for her than because of anything she was doing to his body.

His eyes continued to follow her movements, watching the deliberate motions as she stroked him lazily with just her fingertips, around the tip and back down the underside. Feeling a tightness in his stomach, he tore his eyes away from his languidly hardening flesh as it disappeared into her hand, and glanced at Rose, finding her watchful eyes on him, taking in his every reaction to her touch.

His cock twitched, hardening a little more as her heated stare met his.

He was caught, stuck in her gaze. He didn't look away, didn't want to. The way her eyes held his--so full of love--turned him on more than the ministrations to his body and he knew he could easily lose himself in her.

Gliding a hand down her arm to her hip, he slid his fingers under her nightshirt, touching warm flesh, sprinkled with goosebumps. Her eyes brightened a little, her brows rising as if in challenge. For each inch of her skin he revealed, she gave him a slow, wet kiss, drawing out each one with a lingering sensuousness that made his chest feel heavy and warm. Palm trailing up to her breast, he cupped the flesh, leaning down to kiss her more firmly.

Pebbled and hard, her nipples pressed against his chest. His fingers found one and pinched it, then flicked it lightly, watching her eyes widen the tiniest bit, the pupils dilating more.

Her hand trailed down to cup his balls, sifting them through her spread fingers as he rubbed his thumb over her nipple. She squirmed a bit, shifting higher to easier receive his kisses; hot wet kisses, slow as a summer's day. Long and languorous, building up a gradual arousal with tongues tangling and lips sucking, rich, sweet open-mouthed kisses that reminded him of honey and molasses and Wydel liqueur chocolates.

She leaned up again, lips pressing lazily to his. Casually, he touched his tongue to her mouth, running the tip of it across the fullness of her lips.

"Doctor," she mumbled against the corner of his mouth. A light sheen of sweat was gathering on her, and her eyes were slightly dilated, but he couldn't imagine she'd be ready enough for him this soon.

He wasn't fully hard, but he was getting there, and being inside of her would definitely put him over the edge. Pressing her back on the bed, he rolled over on top of her, settling a leg between her knees, opening them wider for him. "You're ready?" he asked, raising a single eyebrow.

"Doesn't take much," she admitted, sliding a fingernail down his chest to swirl around his nipple. She leaned up and bit lightly on his earlobe, bending her right leg to trap him where he was. "All you have to do is look at me and I get wet. Touching you," she said with a shudder, eyes darkening even more, "being touched by you, hearing your voice..." she leaned into his neck, running her fingers through his hair and inhaling deeply, "smelling you, all of that, and I'm ready to explode." Her teeth tugged his earlobe again, hand scraping down his back to his bum, holding him in place. "You're not the only one who needed to take cold showers, and-- well, you know about the lube."

The Doctor swallowed thickly, feeling a rush of desire pulse through him. He hardened completely, poking against her left leg as he shifted to get more comfortable. She held him tighter, her firm breasts and pebbled nipples pressing against his chest.

Fingernails grabbed his upper arms and tried to draw him back to the bed with her, but he resisted, lowering his body to take her breast into his mouth, flicking the nipple with his tongue. She moaned and arched her back, still with that lazy warmth, but now there was a little more intensity. Their relaxed foreplay had caused a luxurious heat to build in him, running through his veins like thick honey, making for sluggish movements and sensual kisses.

His hand, impatient to feel more of her, skimmed between her thigh and his and settled on the thin scrap of cotton there. Knickers or no, he could tell she hadn't been exaggerating. He drew in a breath at the wetness he found soaking through the material. Hooking his thumbs in the elastic, he slowly dragged them down, scraping his fingernails along the outside of her legs, enjoying her heated gaze as she watched him. Pulling them free of her feet, past her red-tipped toenails, he dropped them to the floor and retraced his path back up her legs with light kisses and trailing fingers, straight back to the moist heat at the apex of her thighs.

Her flesh was warm and swollen and ready for him. She gasped at the fullness of his fingers sliding into her, pressing deep inside, moving a little in a come-hither gesture. Her hips thrust up, just the tiniest bit as his thumb played with her clit. He could lose himself in this, he thought, just forget his own body and seek her pleasure, but he had a deeper need to be inside of her. To feel her surrounding him.

He needed her body to encase his.

Withdrawing his fingers, feeling the cooler air hit them, he slipped them between his lips. Her eyes settled on him as he slid his tongue down one finger and up the other and he saw her throat contract. She watched his tongue slide along each knuckle and between his fingers, her own clenching in the sheets beside her.

And he watched her.

Her skin was flushed now, eyes darkening with slightly more urgency, but he kept his movements slow as he crawled back up her body and kissed her. A rich, deep, glide of lips against lips. Tongue against tongue. When he pulled back, she looked a little dazed. Her breathing was heavier than it had been this whole time, and with wet fingers, he leaned forward, sliding them between her lips, watching her taste herself with his own flavor mixed in.

Her tongue slipped between his fingers and her mouth sucked at his flesh. When her eyes caught his, he had to hold back a groan.

How he'd managed to stay away from her for such long stretches of time, he couldn't say. Slipping his fingers free, he rolled over onto his back, missing her heat and softness immediately, and gave her a heated look. "Come here," he whispered, voice husky and colored by desire. Though they'd taken their time getting here, he was suddenly impatient to be inside her. They were both feeling it now, a slow sense of urgency, simmering just under the surface of their actions. He reached out his hand to her and wiggled his fingers in imitation of the gesture he'd made with them buried inside her body.

She swallowed and took his hand in hers, threading their fingers as he gently drew her forward, guiding her to his lap. The warm press of her thighs and the slight dampness of her curls on his cock caused his breath to hitch in his throat. He could get used to this, could live like this for the rest of his lives.

Just him and Rose, together, traveling through all of time and space by day and sharing their bodies by night.

He felt every muscle in her body clench a second before she shifted and slid forward, rubbing her wet folds along his erection, but not taking him inside of her yet. She was teasing him, watching him struggle to control his breathing.

She rocked on him, her hot slick folds sliding back and forth on his cock as she squeezed her thighs around his waist, always keeping contact with his hard flesh. His fingers dug into her hips as each stroke created the friction his body needed, but her movements were unhurried and slow, as if they had all the time in the world.

He felt her gaze on him, felt a niggling in the back of his mind, a ghosting of her presence from earlier. His fingers itched to take her in his mind again as his cock itched for her to take him inside her body.

There was a feeling of drowning in her eyes, like the strength of her gaze and the pull of her soul could suck him in and he'd be with her forever. He almost wanted to give in. These past few days, having nothing and no one to deal with other than what to eat for lunch or where Rose was, he'd realized how obsessed he'd become with her lately. It was as if he couldn't get his fill of her. His eyes followed her when she was in sight. His ears perked up to catch her approaching footsteps. His mouth wanted to taste her, his fingers to feel her, his nose to inhale her scent.

He was obsessed with Rose Tyler.

But it wasn't all one-sided. No, Rose was the same it seemed. He caught her watching him when she thought he wasn't looking. Saw her smiles when she entered the room and he was there. Knew she breathed in deep when she was beside him or hugging him. And, thanks to her earlier admission, he knew why, and it relieved him to know that he wasn't struggling in a one-sided relationship anymore.

This situation they were in now, however, that was one-sided and a little unfair. Here he was naked beneath her, while she was only half undressed above him.

Something had to be done about that.

On her next slide forward, he placed his hands on her thighs, letting his palms glide up them until he reached the hem of her nightshirt. Hooking his fingers in the stretchy material, he held tight, impeding her backward slide. She gave him a small, pouting look but he just drew up the corners of his mouth as he drew her shirt slowly up her body, revealing small amounts of skin at a time.

This wasn't about rushing, this simple striptease he was performing with her body. It wasn't about need and want and now, now, now like all the other times they'd had sex. This was simply about being together. It was about the two of them loving one another and wanting to show that. There was no need to hurry things.

And there was something to be said about taking one's time.

With that in mind, he drew out baring her to his gaze for as long as he could.

When he could reach no further, he waited while she leaned over him, arms above her head. The material slipped the rest of the way off with little fuss and he got rid of it just as easily, tossing it to the floor by his framed chart. She smiled as she straightened back on him. He loved that smile of hers, the one where her tongue poked out from between her teeth, teasing him and making him imagine all the things he wanted to do to her.

Or have her do for him.

But that was later. Right now, he was content to have her move on him, though he was becoming a little impatient to be inside of her at this point.

He dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her forward, up his body, until the head of his cock was situated just behind her. "Rose," he breathed, feeling the wetness of her desire pooling on his stomach.

His own urgency was slowly gathering in his cock.

She licked her lips and glanced behind her, biting her lip. His cock jerked in response. Humming in satisfaction, she moved further back, sliding hotly, wetly against his length one last time before reaching for him. Slipping her fingers underneath his shaft, which was sticky and moist and resting flat against his stomach, she curled her fingers around him, knuckles brushing lightly against his stomach. His muscles jerked and tightened at the contact against the hairs scattered across his belly.

She grasped him gently and drew him back toward her as she rose up and positioned him at her entrance. Her eyes found his, settling there as if they never wanted to leave. With an indrawn breath, she moved down the slightest bit, just enough to tease him and draw out the pleasure as much as possible.

"Sure you're completely healed?" she asked with a smirk.

He grunted out an affirmative and thrust up inside her as she lowered herself down, muscles clenching on him immediately. She was so warm, so hot on his cooler body that it made him gasp, a gasp mirrored by her. Her breath left her parted lips as pleasure stole over face.

He was determined to keep this slow and steady, enjoying Rose as much as possible by going slowly.

Running his hands up her smooth thighs, he grasped her waist firmly, nudging her, encouraging her to move on him.

With eyes as dark as space, she licked her lips and began to shift her hips.

She tightened her legs around him as she moved up, teasing eyes on his, then stopped and held herself still for a breathless moment before moving back down again. Hands restlessly curling on her own thighs as if she were holding back from touching him, she shifted back and forth, taking her time as she rocked on his lap with slow, deliberate motions meant to prolong.

Usually by this time, he'd be thrusting his hips to meet her drive for drive, the desire building in him screaming toward release, but right now, he was content to let her control things.

Eyes burning into hers, he smoothed his hands over her stomach, fanning his fingers across the soft skin there. She felt so good beneath him, above him, around him, the touch of her sending shocks of electricity throughout his body.

Every measured movement of her hips sent him spiraling closer and closer to the edge, but he held back, keeping a tight rein on his body, wanting her to come first. He didn't feel the usual urgency for completion; he just wanted to be in her, to enjoy her body and her reactions to him.

Caressing his way up her torso with fingertips and sliding palms, he paused just beneath her breasts. "I love... touching you."

His eyes darted up to hers as he bided his time, teasing her with a look and a touch, pressing languidly up into her, feeling deep rich pleasure course through him. His love for her, his want of her, his need to spend the rest of his lives in her arms, all of it coiled around inside of him, coalescing into a burning passion that sparked to life.

Her lips curved up in a knowing smile as she leaned back, arching her chest toward him. Her hands settled on either side of his legs, and she increased her pace slightly, rising and falling on his cock rhythmically, sensually.

Her breasts were bouncing lazily up and down and he closed that minute distance to take them in his hands. Lightly flicking her nipples with the very edge of his nails, he watched, enraptured, as they formed small peaks that begged for his mouth. But when she gasped at the contact and closed her eyes, letting her head drop backward, he forgot all about that and settled more deeply into the pile of pillows behind him to just watch her.

With her body moving so sensuously over him, he felt like he could lose his sense of self or his grip on time, but he still felt it, rotating in the back of his mind and just on the tip of his senses. All he saw though, was Rose, blonde hair shimmering in the light, bouncing lightly with each sweep of her muscles on him. All he felt was her soft skin and warmth.

Neither of them were in a hurry yet, but she was beginning to feel the strain, he could see. His hips thrust up as his hands lowered to halt her motions, burying himself inside her, content to stay there. He settled back on the damp sheets on the mattress and held her seated on him, ignoring her efforts to move. Her body dropped bonelessly over him, muscles squeezing tight.

Frustration showed on her face when he continued to hold her still. Her hand moved down between them, fingers rubbing her clit. His eyes dropped to watch, fueling the heat in his body even further.

She wasn't just frustrated, he realized, she was close to coming. Wrapped in the cocoon of ecstasy, time had, for a few brief moments, lost all meaning.

He could see her trembling with anticipation and the exhaustion of keeping things slow. She leaned forward, resting her hands on his chest, trying to push him further inside her. Pressing down with his hands on her thighs, he helped her along, sheathing himself deeper, never wanting to leave her body, not even for the friction they both craved.

Instead, he slid his finger to her clit and rubbed. Almost instantly, he felt the contractions of her muscles gripping him tight as she started to come. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she dug her nails into his shoulders. Her breath hitched a few times, then shuddered out, and that was all it took to start the domino affect of his own orgasm.

His stomach clenched, as the warm liquid pool of pleasure trailed sinuously down to his cock. He lifted his hips off the bed, plunging himself even deeper into her, his balls drawing up tight to his body.

All he could feel, all he was aware of, was her, and with a last shuddering breath and a frantic buck of his hips, he came inside her. So deep inside her.

Rose collapsed, her slick body draping over him, her hot breath wafting over his shoulder in short, erratic bursts. He slid his arms around her, finding his own body as slick as hers, and held her to him, the only sound in the room their heavy breathing.

Minutes went by, ticking slowly away as he cradled this precious woman to him. The air cooled their skin. When she shivered, he shifted around and grabbed the edge of the duvet, pulling it up over them.

"Miss Tyler, you naughty thing," he breathed in her ear. "Seducing a Time Lord, for shame."

She gave a weak chuckle, breasts pressed quite nicely against his chest, fingers playing with his hair. When she lifted up her head, he noticed her eyes were heavy-lidded. "Definitely healed," she smirked.

His hand slipped under the covers, smoothing down her back as a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Told you, didn't I?"

She shifted on him a little and his softened cock slid out of her. "You did."

After the wonderfully warm and languid sex only minutes ago, a groan would be undignified of him. Completely undignified. Which is why, instead, he only let out a sharp breath. The bundle of restless energy that'd been gathering in him for days was sated a bit after relieving Rose's tension last night, through means he was quite happy to provide, and their recent lovemaking.

How, he'd managed to become aroused at all, he couldn't imagine. Not after his marathon wanking session. He'd expected sex to be the last thing on his mind for quite some time.

But he hadn't counted on his love for the girl on top of him.

His fingers traveled lower down her back and then continued their journey as she shivered noticeably against him. Down her hip, making her shift against him. Over her bum, nails scraping lightly against the curve. Across her thigh, fingers ghosting over the warm skin.

She smiled widely at him, propping her chin on her hands. "Insatiable, aren't ya?"

His fingers slid between her legs, tickling lightly, teasingly. His eyebrows lifted.

Just when he was getting to the good parts, she pushed up, grimacing as their skin stuck together.

"Oi," he complained.

She merely raised an eyebrow at him and looked to his nether regions. "Seriously?"

Well.

He wasn't hard now and probably wouldn't be for quite a while, but if she kept looking at him like that... he shifted deeper into the pillows, crossing his arms under his head, waiting for her inspection to end.

After a moment, she rolled her eyes and bit her lip. "I know you're feeling a little better-"

Knowing he was whinging, but unable to help it, he twisted his lips up in distaste. "Can we not use the word little while examining my... manliness, please?"

She snorted with laughter and climbed off his lap, settling into a sitting position beside him. "I don't think you have a thing to worry about, Doctor. Seriously, I'm getting a t-shirt made that says," she moved her hand over his chest where the words would be, "Time Lords do it all night long."

"Yeah," he agreed, considering her words. "But that says nothing to size. You were insulting my manly--"

"Pillock." She smacked his shoulder and then stretched up to kiss him.

He sniffed and drew back far enough to look down his nose at her. "I'm not the one with bunny slippers."

She pushed off of him, left hand digging into his ribs briefly--

"Oof," he groaned.

\--and hung over her side of the bed for a moment, giving him a nice view of her bare bum. Then she was up again like a shot, holding her slippers aloft, one on each hand. "Hey, what's not to love?" she asked, settling them on his chest and moving them up a little to touch his chin.

"Mmm," he agreed, watching the bunny on the right suspiciously. That one looked shifty. Its eyes were closer together than the left one's were and the pink fur was flatter. Also, the three white whiskers sticking out from either side of the nose were bent.

Remembering the way the bunnies had helped out a few nights ago, he felt a fondness go through him at cute their little faces.

"How can you be mean to the bunnies?" she laughed, trying to pout at him but snickering instead.

Sliding his left arm further underneath her, he caressed her bare thigh, considering the bunnies and the sacrifices they had made for him and Rose.

"No one can resist the bunnies," she intoned, kissing his cheek.

Willing to give in, if only to get them out of his line of vision--they were beginning to look rabid--he sighed and curled his palm around her hip. "I'll make them the TARDIS mascots if you put them away."

Happily, she bounced them off of his chest and yanked off first one, tossing it carelessly across the room and then the other, tossing it in the opposite direction. "Done and done."

Silence settled in as he drew her closer to him and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, content to just be here with her for the time being.

New planets and adventures could wait a little while longer.

Her nail played across his chest, drawing a line back and forth above his nipple in an abstract movement.

She smelt of tea and milk and butter and strawberries and sex. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes as her breath ghosted over his skin, relaxing into the warmth of Rose and her bed.

"Doctor?"

His chest rose, disturbing her when he answered with a lazy hum. Drawing his fingers along her thigh and hip, he opened his eyes, peering across the room at her mirror. He could see the two of them reflected in the surface, lying comfortably ensconced on the bed with a shock of red surrounding them.

Rose's hand curled up and scraped his chest lightly. "You never told me why a flower--sacred relic or not--affected you so badly."

Ah. Yes, of course, she'd want to know about that. "Just did really. Well, it affected everyone like that once upon a time."

She lifted her head, propping her chin on her hands. "What? Why would they make something like that a sacred relic? And put it right out there in the open for anyone to touch?" Her mouth dropped open, horrified. "What if a kid touches it? That's irresponsible and--"

Wincing, knowing she would give him the eyebrow-raise-of-doom, he told her, "It wasn't out in the open. Exactly."

She stared back at him. And, yes, there it went, one eyebrow lifting up just a little bit. "What?" There was a suspicious look in her eyes too.

He shifted uncomfortably. "It was off to the side. In a room. Roped off."

Rose blinked at him and then burst out laughing. "Anyone else I'd say, 'lesson learned', but I've a feeling you haven't."

Shrugging a shoulder, he let his eyes slip past her. "How was I to know it would have a powerful aphrodisiacal affect to it?"

"Roped off," she told him. "Didn't set off any alarm bells?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off.

"In your head, genius."

"Oh." He shook his head, grinning at her. "Nope."

Sighing heavily, she pushed herself into a sitting position beside him, crossing her legs. He watched as she shifted the duvet over her, getting more comfortable. "Flower?"

Snapping his head up to her face, he blinked a few times. "Hmm?" Her query registered a moment later. "Oh, right, the flower. Turns out that, hundreds of years before, the flower--a No'tyss--was used in a mass marriage-seeking ceremony."

Her brows raised in skepticism.

"Really," he assured her, smiling briefly. "The properties of the No'tyss were ingested during the ceremony and whomever a person ended up with was who they married."

"Nice," she chimed in sarcastically.

"Mmm. Apparently the people of Iut agreed with that assessment, because the society began to rebel against the ritual and there was a huge uprising, during which, all the flowers were destroyed. All but a few. And those last few are very carefully cultivated and displayed in their temple as a sacred relic."

She grinned. "Which you licked."

"Which I licked," he agreed.

"Because you can't keep that tongue of yours where it belongs," she said absently, her mind slipping into private thoughts, eyes shifting to stare at the wall to his right.

Sliding a hand down her arm to her hand, he lifted it to his lips, wanting her attention back on him. "Maybe if you'd been with me instead of off looking at that hideous painting... really, cats playing poker? I don't get it. It's much funnier with dogs. Especially dogs with no noses."

She hummed in agreement then shook herself out of her thoughts.

Brushing back a lock of hair that fell forward, he turned her to face him. "Where'd you go?"

A shoulder lifted in a sloppy shrug. "Just thinking."

Sliding his eyes away from hers for a moment, he straightened in the bed and raised his knees, resting his arms on them. She'd been drifting into her thoughts a lot lately. And he knew why. He didn't think she'd realized anything as of yet, but she was bound to start noticing soon. Fingers brushing her forehead, he asked, "What is it?"

He ached to enter her mind, to go in fully, not just the nudge he'd done earlier, and see her thoughts, to flick through them like a child's flipbook, watching them move and turn and grow into the Rose he knew, but he resisted, curling his fingers away from her skin.

The rules he held to were solid and unchanging: never go into someone else's mind without their permission or knowledge. And with Rose, that went double.

Beside, she wouldn't appreciate the gesture for what it was unless she knew, and he couldn't tell her that until he told her other things.

"What happened on Satellite 5?" The question, coming from partially out of the blue, wasn't as startling as it should've been.

He'd been expecting it for some time now. More so since her trip into his mind. Things were different between them and there were almost no more secrets. He'd regained her trust, yes, but he had yet to share the details of what she'd done on Satellite 5. What she'd become. What she'd given him back.

Settling against the pillows, he drew her with him and stared into the mirror across from them, trying to think of how to start. Having had a month or more to prepare, he still hadn't come up with the right way to explain it all. The truth was the truth and she'd get that, but he didn't want to upset her. "What do you remember?"

Her hand fidgeted on his stomach as she curled into his side. She thought about his question, sliding a finger back and forth below his belly button. "Light. Mostly I remember this... golden light. And singing." She raised her head and looked at him, eyes wide and nervous, then blurted out, "I can tell time without looking at a clock. Without thinking about it."

"I know." His arms tightened on her. "Remember when I said that only you could cure me?" She nodded. "It had nothing to do with who you are, and everything to do with what you've become."

She frowned at him. "What do you mean--"

Holding her tighter against his side, he said, "I think there're some things we need to talk about..."


End file.
